















4 















MURDER IN ALL AGES 







m 


1 



























MURDER IN ALL AGES 


BEING A 

HISTORY OF HOMICIDE FROM THE EARLIEST TIMES, WITH THE 
MOST CELEBRATED MURDER CASES FAITHFULLY 
REPORTED, ARRANGED UNDER CONTROL¬ 
LING MOTIVES AND UTILIZED TO 
SUPPORT THE THEORY 
OF HOMICIDAL 
IMPULSE 

BY 

MATTHEW WORTH PINKERTON 

'/ 

PRINCIPAL PINKERTON & CO.’S UNITED STATES DETECTIVE AGENCY 


WITH SIXTEEN FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 


) 

> 

* 


CHICAGO 

A. E. PINKERTON & CO. 
Suite 803, No. 215 Dearborn Street 




HV&so £ 

, , 

y Z 


Copyright, 1898, 

By MATTHEW WORTH PINKERTON 

TWO COPIES RECEIVED. 






CONTENTS 


CHAPTER I.—INTRODUCTION.. 

Many theories as to the origin of evil—Their discussion unprofit¬ 
able—Virtue and vice contending forces—All conscious of this 
inward conflict—The question of heredity—Demoralizing 
effects of many stories of crime—All fiction not of this class— 
Aim of the author—Plan of the present volume—Use of ficti¬ 
tious illustrations—Aristotle’s views of fiction—Crime dimin¬ 
ishing—Objections to this view considered—Reasons why 
increase of crime is only apparent—A brighter era dawning. 


CHAPTER II.—THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE. 

Enormity of the crime of murder—Noble acts of self-sacrifice— 
Contrast of virtue and vice—How to completely suppress crime 
—The first murder—Cain’s motives and provocations—First 
instance of homicidal, impulse—Milton’s account of the first 
murder—Defenders of Cain: Lord Byron—The world growing 
better—Does the homicidal impulse exist?—First inquiry of 
the detective: the murderer’s motive—Absence of reasonable 
motives in many cases—Impulse to kill probably universal— 
Cain influenced by it—Scriptural authority supporting impulse 
theory—Disposition to take life manifest in children—Men 
delight in taking animal life—Instance of Tiberius Caesar— 
Nero placated the people by pandering to this impulse—Uni¬ 
versal interest in murder stories—Horrible accidents repel 
instead of attracting—Morbid mind of Edgar Allen Poe—Poe’s 
Murrella; a good instance of homicidal impulse—Cases of Booth 
and Lincoln, Guiteau and Garfield—“Jack the Ripper’’ and 
the “Nick of the Woods”—Self-justification of crime: Manfred 
—Malthus on “Overpopulation”—Aim of the work—Satirical 
criticisms on Malthus seriously taken—Evil effects of these 
works. 





IV 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

CHAPTER III.—A CURIOUS INSTANCE OF THE HOMI¬ 
CIDAL IMPULSE.. 27 

A strange story of crime—Murder of Jacques Moulin—Absence of 
all apparent motives—The old man with the wooden leg—His 
very plausible story—Murder of Auguste Vivier—A third death: 
the wooden-legged man again—A French police examination 
sixty-five years ago—Armande Geraud and his volume of 
Malthus—The English maid and the Prussian valet—Execution 
of an innocent man—Attempted assassination of Mrs. Stuart— 

The wooden-legged philosopher again—Armande Geraud 
arrested: a second fruitless examination—A mysterious meet¬ 
ing at Wittenberg—Strange murder in a cafd—Arrest of the 
tall stranger—Gottlieb Rinhalter, alias Armande Grimm— 
The secret of the wooden leg—History of the murderer’s 
life—A true disciple of Malthus—Plan of the Wittenberg 
murder—Awful crimes committed by Croc—He experiences 
qualms of conscience—His opinions of great men and noted 
murderers—His attempt to murder his benefactress—Hoist 
with his own petard—Croc a victim of the homicidal impulse. 


CHAPTER IV.—MOTIVES FOR HOMICIDE—REVENGE: NU¬ 
MEROUS CASES... 43 

Scope and plan of present work—Principal motives for homicide— 
Egotism, or the love of self—Revenge a fruitful cause of mur¬ 
der—Maximilian Wyndham, an instance of revenge—History 
of Maximilian’s father—His death due to persecution—Fearful 
scourging of Maximilian’s mother: her death—Sad fate of his 
sisters—Maximilian’s vow of vengeance—The first blow struck 
—Many undetected murders—Wyndham’s plan of vengeance— 
Assassination of the executioner—Methods of the band of 
avengers—Crucifixion of the jailer—Maximilian secretly marries 
—Murder of his wife’s grandfather—Maximilian’s wife dies 
and he commits suicide—Extract from his remarkable con¬ 
fession—Hatred of vice an encouraging sign—Suggestion from 
a detective’s standpoint—Beatrice Cenci, the “Beautiful Par¬ 
ricide”—Conflicting accounts of the celebrated murder—Not 
the wronged and beautiful woman she has been represented— 
Atrocious case of Thomas Simmons—An instance of revenge 
and the homicidal impulse—The author’s experience—Murder 
not the usual end of revenge—William Farmery, the matricide 
—The murder of Rose Weldon, a Chicago case—Killed because 
she procured a divorce from a bigamist—A case of mistaken 
clemency. 




CONTENTS 


v 

PAGE 

CHAPTER V. — CUPIDITY — LACEN AIRE — THE ‘ ‘THREE 
ITALIANS”. 65 

The right of property a paramount one—Cupidity the cause of most 
crimes—Murder usually the result of mixed motives—Awful 
prevalence of homicide in the past—The vicious as well as the 
virtuous associate together—“Honor among thieves,” a fallacy 
—Chardon, the impostor—An awful double-murder—Police 
examinations in France—A plan to murder for gain—A crim¬ 
inal partnership and a trap—Assault on the bank-clerk—Arrest 
of the murderers through lack of “honor”—Lacenaire in prison: 
poses as philosopher and poet—Sensational murder trials 
always attractive—Lacenaire’s reasons for denouncing his 
accomplices—Lacenaire’s last adieu—Awful death of the poet- 
assassin—Lacenaire a victim of the homicidal impulse—Case 
of the “Three Italians”—The awful crime discovered—A 
remarkable identification—The murderers’ confession, their 
trial and execution. 

CHAPTER VI.—CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE—SEVERAL 
CASES... 82 

Bad results of undetected murders—Case narrated by Edgar Allen 
Poe—A murder without an apparent clue—Logical methods of 
the amateur detective—Story of the crime—A genuine detective 
—Methods of Sherlock Holmes—The author’s experience—The 
Bradford-Hayes case—A conviction on purely circumstantial 
evidence—Bradford technically innocent—Comparison with the 
Probst case—Remarkable case of William Shaw—Trial and 
execution of Shaw—Letter of Catherine Shaw—Reparation to 
Shaw’s memory—Circumstantial evidence generally reliable— 
Experience of the author—The Latimer case: a most atrocious 
murder—Arrival and peculiar bearing of young Latimer— 
Damaging circumstantial evidence against him—His conduct 
in Detroit—Sentenced to life-imprisonment—Murders a turn¬ 
key and escapes from the penitentiary—His recapture—The 
crime not strictly matricide—Latimer an instance of inherited 
criminality. 

CHAPTER VII.—THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE—CIRCUM¬ 
STANTIAL EVIDENCE. 102 

Mysterious disappearance of Dr. George Parkman—Dr. Webster’s 
statement—Opinions of experts—Discovery of human remains 
by the college janitor—Trial of Dr. Webster—Prominence of 
parties excites great interest—Remarkable array of circum¬ 
stantial evidence—Convincing evidence of the false teeth— 





VI 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Unusual actions of Dr. Webster—An attempt at suicide—The 
doctor confronted with the remains—Similarity of Webster 
case with that of Eugene Aram—Webster’s misleading letters 
to the authorities—Testimony as to the good character of Dr. 
Webster—Attack made upon circumstantial evidence—Dr. 
Webster addresses the jury—The condemned man solemnly as¬ 
serts his innocence—In a petition for clemency he makes a full 
confession—Circumstantial account of the last interview—The 
fatal blow struck in a moment of blind rage—The disposition 
of the body—He acknowledges the justice of his sentence— 

The motive of the crime—May have been a deliberate murder. 

CHAPTER VIII.—TWO ATROCIOUS MURDER CASES. 116 

The famous Dearing case—The Dearing family—The arrival of 
Anton Probst—Discovery of the massacre—A murder that 
shocked the world—Movements of Probst: his arrest—Trial of 
Anton Probst—Only circumstantial evidence introduced— 
Career of Probst in this country—Probst’s conviction—His con¬ 
fession in detail—Execution of the murderer—Cupidity clearly 
the only motive—The homicidal impulse strong in Probst— 
Probst an instance of extreme depravity—The homicidal 
impulse a dangerous possession—The Druse case—A tell-tale 
cloud of smoke—Arrest of mother and daughter—The daugh¬ 
ter’s story of the crime—Disposition of the remains—The two 
convicted: the mother hanged—A case of inherited criminality 
and homicidal impulse. 

CHAPTER IX. — CUPIDITY — “BURKING” — PRELLER-MAX- 

WELL CASE. 135 

Origin of term “Burking”—Mysterious disappearance of poor per¬ 
sons—“Daft Jamie” and Mary Campbell—Scarcity of “sub¬ 
jects” for dissection—Burke and his accomplice arrested— 
Burke’s death-trap—Story told by the Grays—The noted trial 
begun—Hare’s story of the crime—Murder on a wholesale 
basis—Mrs. McDougal driven from Edinburgh—Release of 
Hare: his disappearance—Burke’s confession: revolting dis¬ 
closures—Execution of Burke—Burking in London—Bishop and 
Williams—Their execution: public excitement—An Act of 
Parliament results from Burking—Preller-Maxwell case—Dis¬ 
appearance of Preller—Discovery of his remains in a trunk— 
Maxwell arrested in New Zealand—The prisoner denies his 
identity—His careless manner after the murder—Trial of Max¬ 
well—His testimony: an ingenious story—Similarity to the 
Webster-Parkman case—Experience of the author—Conviction 
and execution of Maxwell—Motive for the crime. 




CONTENTS 


vii 

PAGE 

CHAPTER X.—EUGENE ARAM. 149 

A celebrated case—One weakness of historical novels—Sketch of 
Aram’s life—Aram’s two strange acquaintances—Remarkable 
scheme of Aram and Houseman—Clarke falls into the trap— 
Mysterious disappearance of Clarke—Aram acquitted of swin¬ 
dling: his subsequent movements—His crime seemingly safe 
from detection—Arrest of Houseman—His incriminating 
remark—Bones of Clarke discovered—Confession of Houseman 
—Arrest and trial of Aram—His remarkable speech in his own 
defense—He urges his own good character—Denies that the 
bones were those of Clarke—Shows that human bones were 
often found in Yorkshire—Strongly attacks Houseman’s testi¬ 
mony—Cites instances of wrongful convictions—Pronounced 
effect of Aram’s speech—Remarkable charge of the judge to 
the jury—Aram convicted and sentenced to death—He attempts 
to take his own life—His defense of suicide—Aram’s written 
confession—His two writings contrasted—“The Dream of 
Eugene Aram.” 

CHAPTER XI.—JUDICIAL MURDER.. 171 

This crime a rare one—Judicial murders during the “Reign of 
Terror”—The Popish Plot—Bitter religious prejudices of the 
time—The political situation—Titus Oates: he invents the 
Popish Plot—Murder of Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey—Oates 
supported by other perjurers—Wholesale judicial murders— 
Trial of Oates for perjury—His terrible punishment—Released 
from prison and pensioned—Judge George Jeffreys—His in¬ 
famous character—Jeffreys becomes the tool of James II.— 
Judicial murder of Algernon Sidney—Defeat and execution of 
Monmouth—Fearful murders of Colonel Percy Kirke—The 
“Bloody Assizes”—The first victim: Lady Alice Lisle—Seventy- 
four hanged in Dorsetshire—Bloody harvest in Somersetshire 

_Methods of the chief-justice—Fate of Abraham Holmes, the 

zealot—Christopher Battiscombe — The Hewling brothers— 
Extent of Jeffreys’ crimes—Hundreds transported as slaves— 
Honors for Jeffreys—His miserable end. 

CHAPTER XII.—ASSASSINATION. 194 

A most detestable crime—Saul’s assassination of Abner—His slay¬ 
ing of Absalom—Judith decapitates Holofernes—Assassination 
a most common crime—Thomas a Becket: his romantic his¬ 
tory— Becket brave and dissolute in his youth—Appointed 
Archbishop of Canterbury—Becket changes the whole course 
of his life—Quarrel of Becket and Henry II.—The Archbishop 





CONTENTS 


assassinated in Canterbury Cathedral—Catherine de Medici: a 
depraved woman—Her remarkable duplicity—Catherine favors 
the Huguenots—As regent, she rules France and corrupts her 
son—She plans the massacre of St. Bartholomew’s day—Assas¬ 
sination of Admiral Coligny—The most awful massacre in 
history—Details of the horrible event—The civilized world 
horrified—Catherine said to have poisoned her son—Assassina¬ 
tion of the Duke of Guise—Assassination of Henry III.— 
Ravaillac kills Henry IV.—Terrible death of the regicide. 

CHAPTER XIII.—ASSASSINATION (Continued). 211 

Character of William of Orange—Enormous sum offered for his 
assassination—First attempt upon the prince’s life—Second 
unsuccessful attempt—Three more efforts made—Assassination 
of the Prince of Orange—Awful punishment of the assassin— 
Attempt upon the life of Napoleon Bonaparte—Damiens stabs 
Louis Philippe—Infernal machine of Fieschi—Charlotte Corday 
—She kills Murat—Her heroic death—Romantic death of Adam 
Lux—Attempted assassination of Louis Napoleon—Assassina¬ 
tion of President Carnot—Macari fires upon Alfonso of Spain 
—King John of England an assassin—He poisons “Maud the 
Fair”—His cruel murder of Prince Arthur—Attempt to kill 
George III. of England—First attempt to assassinate Queen 
Victoria—Other attempts upon her life—Plan to murder Sir 
Robert Peel—Assassination of Paul of Russia—Numerous 
attempts to kill Alexander II.—Killed at last by a bomb— 
William I. of Germany fired upon by an anarchist—Assaulted 
by Dr. Nobling, who commits suicide. 

CHAPTER XIV.—ASSASSINATION IN AMERICA —THE 

MAFIA. 233 

Assassination of Abraham Lincoln—Lincoln’s death not planned 
by Southern leaders—Movements of Lincoln on the fatal day— 
Booth shoots the President—Attempt upon the life of Wil¬ 
liam H. Seward—Flight and subsequent death of Booth—Trial 
of the conspirators: three executed—Trial of John H. Surratt 
—Assassination of James A. Garfield—Remarkable letter 
found upon Guiteau—Statement of Attorney Corkhill—Death 
of President Garfield—Trial and execution of Guiteau—Causes 
of the crime—Assassination of Carter H. Harrison—Similarity 
between Prendergast and Guiteau—Natural advantages of 
Sicily: a hotbed of crime—Assassination common in Sicily— 

The Mafia: murderous acts of the society—Denied that it is a 
complete organization — The modern Bravos—They terrorize 
society—The Malini and the Pasa—Objects of Mafia generally 




CONTENTS 


ix 

PAGE 

accomplished by intrigues—Difficulty of convicting criminals 
in Sicily—Shooting of Italian murderers in New Orleans— 
Statement of St. John Brenon—His account of the Mafia. 

CHAPTER XV.—THE ASSASSINS. 252 

Growth and character of Islam—Cause of its decline—The Ismael- 
ites—Hassan-ben-Sabbeh organizes the Assassins—Plan of the 
organization—Code of introduction—Ambition of Hassan-ben- 
Sabbeh—Systematic assassination begun—A terrible revenge 
—Death of Hassan-ben-Sabbeh—Methods of the Assassins: 
poison and the knife — Statement of Heckethorn — Rare 
fidelity of the Assassins—Fanaticism and clannishness the base 
of this—Origin of the term Assassin—Transported to Paradise: 
the Valley of Mulebad—Assassins commit suicide when ordered 
to do so—Vast power and extensive operations of the Assassins 
—Decline of the organization—A long list of rulers—Practical 
extinction of the society—The homicidal impulse strong in the 
Assassins—The world moving in the right direction. 

CHAPTER XVI.—THE THUGS OF INDIA.. 268 

Religious debasement of India—Kalee, the goddess of destruction 
—The patroness of the Thugs—Thuggee a religion based on 
murder—Origin of the terms Thug and Strangler—Efforts to 
suppress thuggee—Statement of a British, officer—Modes of 
securing victims—Corruption of the young—Thugs trained 
from the cradle—Deception as a fine art—The Thugs arrant 
cowards—Methods of killing victims—Report of an English 
commission—Disposition of bodies by Thugs—Marked victims 
never allowed to escape—Simulated grief of the mourners— 
Organization of the Thugs—Aristocracy recognized by them— 
Their system of cabalistic signs—Division of plunder—Thuggee 
upon the water—Methods of the river-Thugs—The Sothas, or 
“confidence men”—Little known about the Thugs in India— 
How victims were killed on boats—Homicidal impulse the 
Thugs’ ruling passion—Kalee’s gifts to her votaries—The 
sacred pickaxe—An object of absolute reverence—Methods of 
educating the young—Initiation into the horrid order—Certain 
castes and classes exempted from murder—The Thugs’ rever¬ 
ence for the sacred cow—Superstitions of the Thugs adopted 
by Mohammedans. 

CHAPTER XVII.—SECRET POISONERS. 290 

Great prevalence of secret poisoning—Poisoning in England— 
Poisoning among the ancient Romans—The infamous poisoner, 
Locusta—The Empress Agrippina a poisoner—Fate of 


1 





X 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Britannicus—The Greeks used poisons for executing criminals 
—The infamous Borgia family—Roderigo Borgia dies by his 
own poison—Lucretia Borgia a noted poisoner—Heironyma La 
Spara, poison-seller of Rome—Toffania of Naples and her 
“Acquetta”—Her wholesale operations—Fear of poison the 
origin of covered dishes—Madame Brinvilliers, noted poisoner 
of Paris—She learns the art from Sainte Croix—She kills her 
father and two brothers—She administers poison to her hus¬ 
band—Her lover saves him with antidotes—Sainte Croix dies 
while compounding poisons—He leaves a remarkable document 
—A detective flatters Madame Brinvilliers and arrests her— 
Conviction and execution of the parricide—Poisoning becomes 
an epidemic in France—Lavigoreaux and Lavoisin, two infa¬ 
mous poisoners—Their ingenious methods and horrible death— 
Several noble people implicated by Lavoisin—More than two 
hundred poisoners executed in two years—The poisoners of 
India—Methods of Indian poisoners—Revival of poisoning in 
England during the present century. 


CHAPTER XVIII.—DUELING. 308 

Religious or superstitious notion underlying early dueling—Wager 
of battle—Recent appeal to wager of battle—Origin of wager 
of battle—Meeting of the Horatii and the Curiatii—Dueling 
originated in Germany—Dueling endorsed by many kings— 

The practice becomes almost universal—The Christian Church 
opposes dueling—Henry II. of France opposes it—Religious 
quarrels stimulated dueling in France—Attitude of Cardinal 
Richelieu towards dueling—Firm stand of Louis XIV. against 
it—Dueling in England—Its prevalence during the reign of 
Charles II.—Duelist clubs in London—Meeting between Sir 
George Orton and Sir James Stewart—Howard-Sydney duel— 

The Duke of Buckingham kills the Duke of Shrewsbury—Hyde 
Park, London, a noted “Field of Honor”—“The Ring” in 
Hyde Park—The Mohun-Hamilton affair, a double duel— 
Several famous duels fought in “The Ring”—Sheridan - 
Matthews affair—A duel under difficulties—Prevalence of 
dueling in England a century ago—Decline of dueling in Eng¬ 
land. 

CHAPTER XIX.—DUELING (Continued)—NOTED AMERICAN 

DUELS......... 325 

Dueling in Scotland—Account of a duel by Scott—Duel between 
Lochiel and Pellew—Dueling in Ireland—Many leading Irish¬ 
men duelists—Joseph II. of Germany discourages dueling—■. 




CONTENTS 


xi 

PAGE 

Duels in German universities—Dueling in modern France— 
Noted French duelists—Peculiar duels of North American 
Indians—Mexican duels: sudden affrays—Fighting with knives 
in a dark room—Dueling on horseback—Dueling in the United 
States—North and South contrasted—Universal punishment of 
dueling—The Burr-Hamilton duel—Hamilton’s letter to Burr 
—Burr’s reply: their correspondence—The meeting: details 
of the duel—Death of Hamilton—His son killed in a duel—The 
Decatur-Barron duel—Story of the quarrel—The meeting: 
death of Decatur—Decatur’s career as a duelist—The Cilley- 
Graves duel—Action of the House of Representatives—Meeting 
between Andrew Jackson and Charles Dickinson—General 
Jackson’s great provocation—Details of the affair—The Brode- 
rick-Terry duel—Dueling well-nigh extinct. 


CHAPTER XX.—THE CRONIN CASE. 345 

A remarkable and complex case—It causes intense and widespread 
excitement—Outline of Dr. Cronin’s life—Strongly identified 
with the cause of Ireland—“The Triangle”—Cronin presses 
charges—Re-organization of the Clan-na-Gael—Dr. Cronin 
called to O’Sullivan’s—The police notified of his absence— 
Mysterious wagon seen by two policemen—Bloody trunk found 
in Lake View—Systematic search for the body—Suggestions 
that Cronin was a traitor—Frank Woodruff makes a so-called 
confession—Cronin’s enemies report that he is in Canada— 
Plan to blacken Cronin’s name—Dr. Cronin’s body found and 
identified—Discovery of cottage where Cronin was murdered 
—Story told by the Carlsons—Cottage rented by Frank Wil¬ 
liams—Furniture is moved in—Frank Williams writes Carlson 
—O’Sullivan connected with’ the plot—Tracing the furniture 
—Statement of William Mertes—Expressman who moved the 
furniture found—Police officer Daniel Coughlin implicated— 
Coughlin engages a horse and buggy—Coughlin tries to silence 
Dinan—His explanation to Captain Schaack—Arrest of Officer 
Coughlin—The mysterious Smith appears—Coughlin, O’Sulli¬ 
van and Whalen indicted—The coroner’s inquest—Alexander 
Sullivan investigated—Finding of the jury—Alexander Sulli¬ 
van arrested and released—Suspicion falls on Martin Burke— 
Identified through a photograph—Burke arrested at Winnipeg 
—Identified and brought to Chicago—Tin box containing 
Cronin’s clothing discovered—Indictment of the murderers— 
Investigation of Camp Twenty—The famous trial begins—Bold 
attempt to bribe the jury—Sensational testimony of Paulina 
Hoertel—Knives found upon Coughlin indentified as Cronin’s— 
Verdict of the jury—Juror Culver generally denounced— 





X 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Britannicus—The Greeks used poisons for executing criminals 
—The infamous Borgia family—Roderigo Borgia dies by his 
own poison—Lucretia Borgia a noted poisoner—Heironyma La 
Spara, poison-seller of Rome—Toffania of Naples and her 
“Acquetta”—Her wholesale operations—Fear of poison the 
origin of covered dishes—Madame Brinvilliers, noted poisoner 
of Paris—She learns the art from Sainte Croix—She kills her 
father and two brothers—She administers poison to her hus¬ 
band—Her lover saves him with antidotes—Sainte Croix dies 
while compounding poisons—He leaves a remarkable document 
—A detective flatters Madame Brinvilliers and arrests her— 
Conviction and execution of the parricide—Poisoning becomes 
an epidemic in France—Lavigoreaux and Lavoisin, two infa¬ 
mous poisoners—Their ingenious methods and horrible death— 
Several noble people implicated by Lavoisin—More than two 
hundred poisoners executed in two years—The poisoners of 
India—Methods of Indian poisoners—Revival of poisoning in 
England during the present century. 


CHAPTER XVIII.—DUELING. 308 

Religious or superstitious notion underlying early dueling —Wager 
of battle—Recent appeal to wager of battle—Origin of wager 
of battle—Meeting of the Horatii and the Curiatii—Dueling 
originated in Germany—Dueling endorsed by many kings— 

The practice becomes almost universal—The Christian Church 
opposes dueling—Henry II. of France opposes it—Religious 
quarrels stimulated dueling in France—Attitude of Cardinal 
Richelieu towards dueling—Firm stand of Louis XIV. against 
it—Dueling in England—Its prevalence during the reign of 
Charles II.—Duelist clubs in London—Meeting between Sir 
George Orton and Sir James Stewart—Howard-Sydney duel— 

The Duke of Buckingham kills the Duke of Shrewsbury—Hyde 
Park, London, a noted “Field of Honor”—“The Ring” in 
Hyde Park—The Mohun-Hamilton affair, a double duel— 
Several famous duels fought in “The Ring”—Sheridan - 
Matthews affair—A duel under difficulties—Prevalence of 
dueling in England a century ago—Decline of dueling in Eng¬ 
land. 

CHAPTER XIX.—DUELING (Continued)—NOTED AMERICAN 
DUELS... 225 

Dueling in Scotland—Account of a duel by Scott—Duel between 
Lochiel and Pellew—Dueling in Ireland—Many leading Irish¬ 
men duelists—Joseph II. of Germany discourages dueling—< 




CONTENTS 


xi 

PAGE 

Duels in German universities—Dueling in modern France— 
Noted French duelists—Peculiar duels of North American 
Indians—Mexican duels: sudden affrays—Fighting with knives 
in a dark room—Dueling on horseback—Dueling in the United 
States—North and South contrasted—Universal punishment of 
dueling—The Burr-Hamilton duel—Hamilton’s letter to Burr 
—Burr’s reply: their correspondence—The meeting: details 
of the duel—Death of Hamilton—His son killed in a duel—The 
Decatur-Barron duel—Story of the quarrel—The meeting: 
death of Decatur—Decatur’s career as a duelist—The Cilley- 
Graves duel—Action of the House of Representatives—Meeting 
between Andrew Jackson and Charles Dickinson—General 
Jackson’s great provocation—Details of the affair—The Brode- 
rick-Terry duel—Dueling well-nigh extinct. 


CHAPTER XX.—THE CRONIN CASE. 345 

A remarkable and complex case—It causes intense and widespread 
excitement—Outline of Dr. Cronin’s life—Strongly identified 
with the cause of Ireland—“The Triangle”—Cronin presses 
charges—Re-organization of the Clan-na-Gael—Dr. Cronin 
called to O’Sullivan’s—The police notified of his absence— 
Mysterious wagon seen by two policemen—Bloody trunk found 
in Lake View—Systematic search for the body—Suggestions 
that Cronin was a traitor—Frank Woodruff makes a so-called 
confession—Cronin’s enemies report that he is in Canada— 
Plan to blacken Cronin’s name—Dr. Cronin’s body found and 
identified—Discovery of cottage where Cronin was murdered 
—Story told by the Carlsons—Cottage rented by Frank Wil¬ 
liams—Furniture is moved in—Frank Williams writes Carlson 
—O’Sullivan connected with] the plot—Tracing the furniture 
—Statement of William Mertes—Expressman who moved the 
furniture found—Police officer Daniel Coughlin implicated— 
Coughlin engages a horse and buggy—Coughlin tries to silence 
Dinan—His explanation to Captain Schaack—Arrest of Officer 
Coughlin—The mysterious Smith appears—Coughlin, O’Sulli¬ 
van and Whalen indicted—The coroner’s inquest—Alexander 
Sullivan investigated—Finding of the jury—Alexander Sulli¬ 
van arrested and released—Suspicion falls on Martin Burke— 
Identified through a photograph—Burke arrested at Winnipeg 
—Identified and brought to Chicago—Tin box containing 
Cronin’s clothing discovered—Indictment of the murderers— 
Investigation of Camp Twenty—The famous trial begins—Bold 
attempt to bribe the jury—Sensational testimony of Paulina 
Hoertel—Knives found upon Coughlin indentified as Cronin’s— 
Verdict of the jury—Juror Culver generally denounced— 



Xll 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

Coughlin secures a new trial—Death of Burke and O’Sullivan 
—Second trial of Coughlin—Coughlin seen to enter the cottage 
—Sensational testimony of Frank Bardeen—Coughlin walking 
behind wagon containing trunk—Strong testimony of Mrs. 
Lizzie Foy—Plot discussed in her house—Coughlin’s incrimi¬ 
nating statements—Promises Alexander Sullivan’s protection— 
Jury acquits Coughlin—A substantial failure of justice. 

CHAPTER XXI.—THE “HAYMARKET MASSACRE”. 369 

Socialism and anarchy—The great labor strikes of 1886—Riot at 
McCormick works—The “Revenge - ’ circular—Haymarket 
meeting called—Extract from Spies’ harangue—Incendiary 
speeches—The police attempt to disperse' the meeting—The 
deadly bomb is thrown—Fearful slaughter of the police—Many 
arrests made—Names of those indicted—Trial of the anarchists 
—Testimony of Gottfried Waller—Plan of the anarchists— 
Justice of the verdict: Judge Gary’s opinion—The sentence of 
the court—Long speeches of the anarchists—Louis Lingg’s 
bitter speech—Suicide of Louis Lingg—Action of the Supreme 
Court—Four anarchistic murderers hanged—Schwab, Fielden 
and Neebe pardoned—Governor Altgeld’s savage assault upon 
Judge Gary. 

CHAPTER XXII.—THE. PALMER POISONING CASE. 384 

The Old Bailey in London—William Palmer—John Parsons Cook 
—Palmer financially embarrassed—He resorts to forgery— 
Cook makes a winning—Sudden illness of Cook—What Mrs. 
Brooks saw—Palmer resumes active operations—Palmer’s 
broth makes a servant sick—Palmer’s visit to London—Palmer 
obtains strychnine—Cook taken violently ill—Palmer purchases 
more strychnine—Palmer administers pills to Cook—Death of 
John Parsons Cook—Palmer secures Cook’s effects—Bamford 
writes certificate of death—The post-mortem examination— 
Palmer induces the postmaster to open a letter—Palmer sus¬ 
pected by Mr. Stephens—The poisoner’s forgeries exposed— 
Nature of strychnine—Views of the attorney-general—Long 
lists of expert witnesses—Analysis of Dr. Taylor—No trace 
of strychnine found—Present scientific view—Dying symp¬ 
toms indicated strychnine poisoning—Palmer an expert in 
poison—The Palmer case still a leading precedent. 

CHAPTER XXIII.— H. H. HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 401 

Two remarkable instances of the Ironic’:< a 1 impulse—H. H. 
Holmes the arch-murderer—Addicted 10 a.most every known 




CONTENTS 


xiii 

PAGE 

crime—The Pitezel case, which brought Holmes to justice— 

He receives a large sum for his confession—A past-master in 
the science of lying—A history that reads like fiction—An 
inventor discovers a horrible crime—The dead body and its 
surroundings—Decided to be a case of suicide—Insurance 
scheme developed—Body claimed as that of Pitezel—Holmes 
appears upon the scene: His ingenious letters—Two conspir¬ 
ators are introduced to each other—The body identified as that 
of Pitezel—The insurance policy paid—A breach of faith that 
led to Holmes’ detection—Hedgepeth makes known the insur¬ 
ance swindle—Holmes is located and arrested in Boston—The 
murderer’s first confession—He presents quite a plausible 
explanation—Mrs. Pitezel becomes communicative—Holmes 
finds that he has made a serious mistake—His second confes¬ 
sion—Pitezel had committed suicide—His ingenious story not 
believed by the authorities—The prisoner declares that the 
children are in London—Cipher advertisement for Minnie 
Williams—The Williams sisters: Holmes accuses Minnie of 
murder—Officers believe that Holmes has killed the children— 

A veteran detective starts to unravel the mystery—Locates 
them in Cincinnati and Indianapolis—Concluded that the boy 
is dead—Visits the “Castle” in Chicago—Holmes and his three 
parties in Detroit—The remains of the two girls discovered in 
Toronto—Geyer starts in quest of Howard Pitezel—A long and 
most discouraging search—Holmes found to have rented a cot¬ 
tage at Irvington—Discovery of the half-burnt remains of a 
boy—They are identified as those of Howard Pitezel—Holmes 
wanted in many places—Trial of Holmes for the murder of 
Pitezel—Unprecedented efforts to secure a continuance—Trial 
of the murderer—Holmes convicted and sentenced to death— 
Remarkable confession of H. H. Holmes—Some account of his 
early life: Holmes a bigamist—Affects to believe that he was 
assuming the form of the devil—The first of twenty-seven 
murders—Declares that he was a victim of the homicidal 
impulse—Sells “subjects” to medical colleges—An assorted lot 
of murders—Awful crime committed by a confederate— 
Holmes’ “Castle”—A veritable murder-den—His strange 
power of fascinating women—Secures explanatory letters from 
victims before killing them—Sad fate of Emeline Cigrand— 
Establishes a place for decoying innocent girls—Kills, and sells 
the body of his janitor—Confesses that he burned a man alive 
—Secures his money by raised checks—Two murders in which 
he had confederates—The Williams sisters: a horrible double 
murder—The famous Pitezel murders: Holmes’ statement— 
Murder of B. F. Pitezel the work of a fiend—Killing of How¬ 
ard Pitezel—The murderer’s reflections—Murder of the Pitezel 


xiv 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

girls—Holmes becomes sentimental—Execution of Holmes: 
his last moments—His last confession: dies with a lie upon his 
lips—The Holmes case a difficult one to analyze—The homi¬ 
cidal impulse explains all his actions—Holmes almost totally 
depraved—The moral of his life and death. 

CHAPTER XXIV.—CASE OF HARRY HAYWARD.432 

A brother’s farewell—Discovery of Catherine Ging’s remains— 
Startling statement of Harry Hayward—His long examination 
—Sensational letter of Elder Stewart—Arrest of Harry Hay¬ 
ward—Arrest and confession of Adry Hayward—Arrest and 
confession of Blixt—Blixt makes a second confession—Swift 
action of the authorities—The famous trial begun—Testimony 
in the case—Conviction of Harry Hayward—Hayward’s 
attempted escape—Life imprisonment for Blixt—Harry Hay¬ 
ward curses his brother—They become reconciled—Hayward’s 
death: “I stand pat”—Hayward makes a full confession— 
Sketch of his life—Money his god—Driven to crime through 
gambling—His first great crime—Hayward becomes a murderer 
—Becomes an incendiary—Plans many murders—The murder, 
at Long Branch—Brutal murder of a Chinaman—Case of 
Catherine Ging—Hayward secures all her money—A scheme 
involving hypnotism and mystery—Harry exonerates Adry— 
How he hypnotized Blixt—They discuss many plans—A fellow- 
feeling for Durant—The ominous mole—Not sorry for his 
crimes—A clear subject of homicidal impulse. 

CHAPTER XXV.—THEODORE DURANT, THE SAN FRAN¬ 
CISCO MONSTER. 451 

A case that rivals fiction in horrors—Almost unique in the history 
of crime—The murderer and his habits—Two beautiful girls 
his victims—Some account of them—Scene of the crimes: the 
“Hoodoo Church”—Mysterious disappearance of Blanche 
Lamont—An awful discovery in the church—Fiendish methods 
employed by the murderer—Durant at the party—His remark¬ 
able composure—Suspicious circumstances against him—Minnie 
Williams’ purse found in his pocket—Prediction of a news¬ 
paper—Search for the remains—Awful discovery in the 
church-tower—Disposition of the murdered girl’s clothing— 

The auditorium and church-tower: a strange contrast—Durant 
strongly suspected—Wild excitement in the city—Durant 
arrested and imprisoned—A clergyman unjustly accused— 
Blanche Lamont’s rings sent to her aunt—Action of the 
coroner's jury—The trial; testimony of Organist King —Du- 




CONTENTS 


xv 

PAGE 

rant not at the college April third—He takes the stand—Fails to 
help his case—His conviction and sentence to death—The law’s 
delays—Durant four times condemned to death—Execution of 
Theodore Durant—Protests his innocence from the scaffold— 
Opinion of Rev. William Roder—Extract from a newspaper— 
“Papa, give me some more of the roast”—A difficult case to 
classify—Durant a perverted monster. 

CHAPTER XXVI.—THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER. 467 

A tragedy enacted in three States—Discovery of the remains— 
Identification of clothing—The flower of the flock—Arrest of 
Scott Jackson—How he formed Pearl’s acquaintance—Wanted 
a woman’s head to dissect—Mutual incriminations—Circum¬ 
stantial evidence accumulates—Walling prevents Pearl from 
returning home—Story of Lulu May Hollingsworth—Verdict of 
coroner’s jury—The prisoners removed to Kentucky—The 
authorities in a dilemma—Long-sought-for coachman found— 
Remarkable story of George H. Jackson—Driving at the point 
of a revolver—Flight of the frightened coachman—He identi¬ 
fies Walling—Discovery of the carriage—Midnight procession 
to scene of murder—The tell-tale railway iron—Walling’s 
bloody overshoes found—Jackson’s letters to Will Wood—Trial 
and conviction of the murderers—Strong efforts to secure 
clemency—Jackson makes and withdraws a confession— 
Prisoners die protesting their innocence—Probably victims of 
the homicidal impulse. 

CHAPTER XXVII.—THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY. 481 

Sensational fiction and crime—Resemblance to Webster and 
Cronin cases—A gruesome bit of flotsam—A horrible treasure- 
trove—Expert opinions of remains—An enterprising reporter— 
Clue to the murdered man’s identity—Mrs. Augusta Nack— 

Her story as to Guldensuppe—The remains identified—An 
immoral household—Wrappings traced to Mrs. Nack—Missing 
legs discovered by boys—Arrest of Mrs. Nack—The cottage at 
Woodside—The search for Martin Thorn—Thorn’s confession 
to Gotha—Details of a horrible crime—Disposition of the 
remains—Arraignment of the murderers—Mrs. Nack a witness 
against Thom—The barber’s version of the murder—Con¬ 
fession of Martin Thorn—Mrs. Nack committed to prison— 
Execution of Martin Thorn—Homicidal impulse plainly present. 

CHAPTER XXVIII.—LUETGERT CASE. 492 

Three methods of evading detection—The famous Luetgert case— 

The means suggested the end—Some account of A. L. Luet- 





XVI 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

gert—He meets with business reverses—His domestic relations 
are not happy—Disappearance of Mrs. Luetgert—Her brother’s 
vain search for her—Luetgert faces the police—Fearful crime 
suggested to the officers—Frank Bialk’s strange story—He is 
twice sent to a drug store—The famous middle vat—Various 
suspicious circumstances—Conclusion reached by Captain 
Schuettler—Police search the factory—Examine the middle 
vat—Discovery of Mrs. Luetgert’s rings—Luetgert’s purchase 
of potash—Breaking up the potash—Luetgert bribes Odor- 
owsky to keep silent—Orders the place cleaned up—Bones 
and corset-steels discovered—Fatal mistake of Luetgert—He 
is arrested and indicted—Trial of A. L. Luetgert—Gruesome 
experiment at the factory—The State’s difficult task—Luet¬ 
gert’s young son testifies—Important testimony of Mrs. Tosch 
—Luetgert visits Frank Bialk—Testimony of Mrs. Feldt— 
Luetgert’s love-letters read in court— Mrs. Feldt identifies 
bloody knife—Testimony of Emma Schiemicke—Testimony 
of the experts—List of bones introduced—Other witnesses 
of the State—Great efforts of the defense—Efforts to prove 
Mrs. Luetgert alive—Bearing of the defendant on the trial— 
Testimony of William Charles—Claim that Luetgert was mak¬ 
ing soap—Weakness of this defense—Effort to prove Mrs. 
Luetgert insane—The jury disagrees—Again arraigned for 
trial—Stenographers abandon the defense —Luetgert takes 
the stand—Is sentenced to imprisonment for life—Luetgert 
an egotistical man. 

CHAPTER XXIX.—INFANTICIDE.. 509 

Infanticide a crime common with savages—Shame the leading 
cause of infanticide at present—Infants often sacrificed to 
heathen deities—Infanticide among the Greeks—The Romans 
restricted it—Exposure of infants common with the Romans— 

The growth of Christianity checked infanticide—Abandoned 
infants largely sold as slaves—Punishment of child-murder by 
the Romans—Abortion among the pagans—Same among the 
Christians—Infanticide in India and China—Modern view of 
the crime—Foundling hospitals—Foundling hospitals in France 
—The turning-wheel—Recent changes in France—Punish¬ 
ment of infanticide at present—Ancients and moderns con¬ 
trasted. 

CHAPTER XXX.—SUICIDE. 52I 

Suicide condemned by enlightened people—Forbidden by the 
Romans—Suicide of Samson—Only four other biblical instances 
—Wholesale suicide of Eleazar and his company—Josephus’ 




CONTENTS xvii 

PAGE 

description of the' slaughter—The great historian placed in a 
like predicament—Brahminism encourages suicide—Forms of 
death chosen by the Brahmins—Buddhism favorable to suicide 
—Japanese modes of death—Wonderful composure—Early 
Greeks opposed suicide—Philosophy changes the Greek view 
—Suicide among the Romans—A common death—List of dis¬ 
tinguished pagan suicides—Seneca eloquently advocates sui¬ 
cide—Slight restrictions of the Roman law—Cato’s suicide— 

His soliloquy on immortality—Suicide of Tarquin’s soldiers— 
Remarkable death of Petronius Arbiter—Singular end of Zeno 
—Many suicides due to the Oracles—Suicides in Central Asia— 
Suicides in Egypt—Suicide among the northern barbarians— 
Their fear of a death from old age—Marked contrasts of the 
Christian notion—Suicide among the Vikings—Among the 
Scandinavians—Marked influence of Christianity. 


CHAPTER XXXI.—SUICIDE (Continued). 540 

Christianity gave a new meaning to life—In two respects it dis¬ 
couraged suicide—Suicide among the early Christians—Caused 
by unbounded enthusiasm—The Donatists strongly advocated 
suicide—The Church formally condemns suicide—Suicide of 
women to escape defilement—St. Palagia committed suicide 
from this motive—Suicides in monasteries—An extraordinary, 
suicide from fanaticism—Efforts to check suicide—Suicide from 
example: the women of Miletus—An epidemic of suicides at 
Lyons—Case of Thomas Chatterton: a remarkable boy—Sui¬ 
cides of Jews—Suicidal imitation extends to places and 
methods—Unique methods employed by suicides—Suicide clubs 
—The love of life almost universal—Savages little addicted to 
suicide—The love of life declines with age—Suicide among 
children—The instantaneous suicidal impulse—The gradually- 
growing suicidal impulse—Rational suicide: common with the 
ancients—Irrational suicide—Laws for the suppression of sui¬ 
cide—Regulations for the burial of suicides. 


CHAPTER XXXII.—CAPITAL PUNISHMENT. 557 

Controversy over the death penalty—Capital punishment a seem¬ 
ing necessity—Executions among the ancients—Death by 
drowning—Burning to death—Enormous extent of this pun¬ 
ishment—Burning of Eleanor Elsom—Boiling to death— 
Pressing to death: a most cruel punishment—Form of sentence 
to be pressed to death—Description of a legal pressing— 
Execution by hanging—Ancient and modern modes of hanging 




xviii 


CONTENTS 

—Hanging, drawing and quartering—Gibbeting, or hanging 
in chains—Garroting, a Spanish punishment—Breaking on the 
wheel—Decapitation by the axe and sword—The “Halifax 
Gibbet”—The “Scottish Maiden”—The guillotine and its 
origin—Extravagant statement of Dr. Guillotin—Louis XVI. 
makes a suggestion—Description of the guillotine—Electrocu¬ 
tion—Office of public executioner—Crimes punished with death. 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


OPP. PAGE 

Portrait of the Author. Frontispiece 

Strange Murder in a Cafe .... 0 .... 32 

Execution of Lacenaire.80 

Dr. Webster Confronted with the Remains of Dr. Parkman . 112 

The Dearing Massacre; Probst at Work.128 

Discovery of Daniel Clarke’s Bones in St. Robert’s Cave . . 160 

Jeffreys Inspecting His Present.192 

Judith and Her Maid Departing with the Head of Holofernes. 20S 


Assassins Dying at the Command of Their Chief 
Duel Between Alexander Hamilton and Aaron Burr . 

Dr. Cronin Entering the Carlson Cottage . 

H. H. Holmes Asphyxiating the Pitezel Girls .... 
Discovering the Remains of Minnie Williams .... 

Pearl Bryan and Her Murderers. 

Martin Thorn and Mrs. Nack on the Ferryboat 
Adolph Luetgert Instructing “Smokehouse Frank” How to Crush 
the Potash. 528 


256 

320 

363 

416 

464 

480 

496 


xix 




MURDER IN ALL AGES 


CHAPTER I 
INTRODUCTION 

There are as many theories explanatory of the introduction 
of sin into the world as there are different systems of religion 
and philosophy. Most of the great religious faiths, like Chris¬ 
tianity,’ Buddhism and Mohammedanism, account for the 
presence of sin, and consequent death, by insisting that man 
was created perfect and sinless and subsequently fell from his 
high estate through the influence of temptation. On the other 
hand, many modern schools of philosophy profess to demon¬ 
strate that our first parents were savages, and that mankind 
began life by advancing, instead of retrograding. 

A discussion of this most ancient of all questions would 
prove alike futile and unprofitable. Whichever theory is 
adopted, one fact is beyond dispute: the earliest extant his¬ 
torical writings, outside the “sacred books” of different 
nations, show mankind as existing in a very low state of 
civilization, and demonstrate that, if “Athens was but the 
ruins of an Eden and Aristotle but the rubbish of an Adam,” 
a mighty retrocession of the race had early been brought 
about. In the fullest sense of the term, man cannot do right 
unless it is possible for him to do wrong. Virtue and vice are 
complementary to each other, and combine to make up the 
moral portion of the being we call man, as he at present 
exists. The expansion of the former and the elimination of 


2 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the latter is the greatest problem of life, and its final solution, 
perhaps ages hence, will elevate humanity to that ideal posi¬ 
tion which must be the ultimate climax of the Divine plan of 
creation. 

In the meantime, the heart of humanity may be likened to 
an arena, infinitely broader than the one in the Coliseum at 
Rome, where men and beasts fought for supremacy, in which 
the tendency for good—man’s true spirit—contends with the 
inclination for evil—his perverted nature. While this struggle 
is confined to individual breasts, its effects are world-wide. 
The triumph of virtue in the heart of Marcus Aurelius gave an 
humane and kindly ruler to mankind, while the supremacy of 
vice in that of Caligula, plunged the world into misery and 
made Rome a vast saturnalia of crime. The same “irrepres¬ 
sible conflict’’ that produced Alexanders, Borgiasand Jeffreys, 
gave to humanity its Solons, Howards and Lincolns. 

The history of this inward war is the history of mankind. 
We may not look into the hearts of our fellows and note how 
the battle goes; how the stealing of a penny leads one man on 
to the gallows, while the repression of an evil thought by 
another starts in motion a line of action that induces him to 
devote his life to virtue and self-sacrifice, and merit the com¬ 
mendation of men and the approval of God, but if we intel¬ 
ligently study their acts we can, none the less certainly, know 
which force is in the ascendency. 

It is because of this strife, which continues with greater or 
less activity until the grave closes over us—unless, indeed, 
one of the combatants retires from the battle-field, leaving 
either a saint or a demon behind him—that accounts, whether 
historical* or fictitious, of great crimes and criminals, usually 
possess a peculiar fascination. We are all subjected to 
temptation, and, whether we yield or resist, are conscious of an 
inward conflict. Most good men can recall crises in their 
lives, where the turning aside from an alluring sin has saved 
them from a probable career of evil, while, on the other hand, 
the most desperate criminals can remember yielding to some 
one temptation that started them upon a course of crime. It is 
this universal personal knowledge of ourselves that renders 


INTRODUCTION 


3 


attractive to many of us narratives of criminal doings, even of 
the most atrocious nature, like murder. By this it is not 
meant that a large proportion of us have been seriously 
tempted to take the life of a fellow creature; none the less, 
however, we can appreciate the struggle that engages the 
breast of a murderer. The man of forty who, from jealousy, 
cupidity, revenge or any other motive, kills another, would 
have recoiled in horror from a like suggestion if it had been 
made to him at twenty, while at ten he only decided to dis¬ 
obey his mother after the severest struggle of his life. In 
other words, men fall into criminal lines by gradations, which 
are swift or slow, according to the strength or weakness of 
their moral natures. 

In this connection the broad and many-sided question of 
heredity presents itself. That some are born with a predispo¬ 
sition to virtue while others possess an inherent tendency 
towards evil, is too well established and too generally recog¬ 
nized to admit of doubt or warrant discussion. This inherited 
tendency towards good and evil has been noticed from the 
earliest times. The prayer of an ancient Arabian thus 
quaintl} 7 , yet forcibly, expresses it: “Oh! God, be kind to the 
wicked! Thou hast been sufficiently kind to the good in 
making them good.” The beginnings of the human race 
were made under conditions of perfect equality, and, but for 
the introduction of sin into the world, these would doubtless 
have continued, and all the descendants of Adam been equal 
in physical make-up, intellectual strength and moral rectitude. 
Why some are born with an inclination to live in accordance 
with the laws of God, while others, from their cradles, mani¬ 
fest decided predilections for wrong-doing and crime, it is not 
given us to know; yet such is the undoubted psychological fact. 

After all, this distinction is only relative; many men have 
successfully fought an inherited tendency to evil, lived vir¬ 
tuous lives and died triumphant deaths; while no end of 
people, notably well endowed, have entered upon evil courses 
and gone down to destruction. It is no part of the author’s plan 
to trace the antecedents of criminals and attempt to describe 
their degree of moral turpitude.. But, wljile rpen must be 


4 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


taken as we find them, not as we would have them, our judg¬ 
ments as to the culpability of criminals must always be tem¬ 
pered with charity, and their antecedents and moral make-up 
be taken into account. 

The disposition on the part of humanity to find pleasure in 
annals and stories of crime has long been observed and taken 
advantage of by publishers and authors, who have literally 
flooded the world, more especially this country, with works of 
fiction in which the basest crimes are depicted and the 
depravity of the human heart laid bare, too frequently in a 
manner that casts a glamour over the most heinous offenses 
against society and the law. In this class of fiction the sym¬ 
pathy of the reader, particularly the young reader, is often 
with the criminal, whose misfortunes and trials excite feelings 
of fellowship and pity, and whose escapes and triumphs cause 
youthful hearts to glow with approval and pleasure. Such 
books have worked incalculable harm in thousands of Ameri¬ 
can homes. Not only do they degrade and vitiate the literary 
taste of youthful readers, but they raise false notions of 
morality, and prove the ruin of large numbers of the young 
of both sexes. 

But, under the skilful hand of an author of ability and 
learning, who is actuated 1?y lofty motives, vice can be so 
portrayed as to become hateful, and give, by contrast, to 
truth, and virtue, and manhood, a brighter hue, a more 
exalted meaning. No person, boy or girl, man or woman, 
was probably ever morally injured by reading “Caleb Wil¬ 
liams, ’ ’ “ Waverley, ’ ’ “ Nicholas Nickleby, ” or “ Paul Clifford. ’ ’ 
The last named is a story of highwaymen. Contrast it with 
“Sixteen-string Jack,” and “The James Boys,” and the dis¬ 
tinction will become apparent. It is vice as portrayed in the 
first-mentioned class of books that Pope had in mind when he 

wrote: «« Vice a mons t er of so frightful mien 

That to be hated needs but to be seen; 

Yet seen too oft, familiar with her face, 

We first endure, then pity, then embrace. M 

The author has set himself the task of writing what might, 
pot inappropriately be entitled: “A History of Crime.” Ip 


INTRODUCTION 


5 


so doing, he modestly hopes to be able to present a series of 
books that, while attractive and instructive, may prove of 
some practical value to those interested in the suppression of 
crime and the reformation of criminals. His aim is even 
higher than this; he hopes to aid in preventing the growth 
and development of criminals, by demonstrating that one 
false step leads to another, and that wrong-doing receives 
certain and adequate punishment, if not at the hand of the 
law, in the formation of an evil character, the possessor of 
which cannot hope to enjoy anything of true happiness. 

In the long category of crime, murder, by almost universal 
consent, is given the foremost place. To deprive a reasonable 
creature, made in the image of God, of his life, is the perfec¬ 
tion, the personification, of cruelty—“All that a man hath will 
he give for his life.” The perpetrator of a deliberate murder 
has reached the lowest abyss to which poor human nature is 
capable of falling; he may multiply his crimes, but can hardly 
become more depraved. 

The subject of the present volume is homicide, in all its 
shades of atrocity, from suicide to premeditated murder. In 
this offense are generally present the motives, passions and 
methods that characterize other and lesser crimes, and a 
perusal of its history will render clearer and more easily 
understood the volumes that are to follow. 

In writing this book the author becomes the chronicler of 
crime. He hopes to accomplish his task fairly, conscientiously, 
and with such detail and variety of illustration as, without 
being redundant and tiresome, will convey a comprehensive 
idea of the history of homicide, from the jealous and revenge¬ 
ful act of Cain, down to prominent cases within the present 
memory of the reader. In preparing this work he has spared 
neither pains nor expense, and has made diligent research for 
authentic cases illustrative of the various grades of homicide, 
the different- modes of accomplishing it, and the manifold pas¬ 
sions and motives that lead to its commission. 

Within the scope of this work fall many cases attended 
with extenuating circumstances, and in which, touching the 
degree of the perpetrator’s culpability, there may well be 


6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


differences of opinion. In these, as in other illustrations, the 
author offers nothing in justification or excuse. His aim is to 
present the facts and allow the reader to draw his own con¬ 
clusions. He recognizes no criminal heroes, and the gallantry 
and generosity of cut-throats are not put forward and balanced 
against their crimes. “A man must be just before he is 
generous,” declared one of England’s greatest jurists, and 
this truism is sufficient to sweep aside all apologies offered by 
sentimentalists for criminals who, like Robin Hood and Claude 
Duval, seemed to possess and exercise certain chivalrous and 
amiable traits of character. 

It is no part of the design of this work to elaborate the hor¬ 
rible or encourage any morbid tastes in that direction. Dis¬ 
gusting details are omitted or treated in a manner not 
calculated to shock the sensibilities of the reader. At the same 
time, criminal pictures are not deprived of their just shades 
and coloring, but stand out in bold relief, contrasting strongly 
with the praiseworthy acts of honorable and virtuous men. 
Without aping the style of the novelist, it has been the author’s 
aim to treat the subject in a manner that will render the work 
pleasing and entertaining, as well as instructive and elevating. 

In the ensuing pages will be found some illustrations of 
crime and the operation of the homicidal impulse that have 
been drawn from the works of fiction. At the first blush these 
might seem out of place in a volume dealing with homicide. 
It must be remembered, however, that the present work com¬ 
prehends something more than that; it aims to show the 
motives and temptations that drive men of different tempera¬ 
ments and various environments into courses of crime, and 
for such purposes a fictitious narrative, written by a close and 
conscientious investigator of human nature and human action, 
like De Quincey, for instance, possesses peculiar value. 
“Fiction,” declared Aristotle, the most scientific and accurate 
of all the philosophers of ancient Greece, “contains more real 
truth than history.” He goes on to explain this seeming para¬ 
dox by saying that many so-called historical facts are either 
entire fabrications or have been so distorted in the process of 
transmission, so often warped and twisted to establish theories, 


INTRODUCTION 


7 


justify parties and friends, or condemn enemies, as to be alto¬ 
gether unreliable. His definition of a novel, or tale, shows 
clearly and succinctly why, in his estimation, fiction, if the 
work of a master mind, contains much of real truth. “A 
novel,” he wrote, “is that department of fiction wherein the 
characters are represented as acting and the events as ensuing 
in the same manner as might reasonably be expected on the 
supposition that the actors had had a real existence.” He 
further explains that history deals with certain individual 
facts only, as an account of a battle, while true fiction brings 
together a large number of human actions and experiences, 
collated by the author from numerous sources, and thus pre¬ 
sents a more composite, and hence broader, and more truthful 
and instructive picture, than a page from history. 

The long experience of the author with crime and criminals 
and his researches among the criminal annals of the past, 
lead him to believe that, in the civilized society of our day, 
better impulses predominate than in the centuries gone by, 
and he is convinced that the present volume will establish this 
position. Crimes that went almost unrebuked a thousand 
years ago, are of comparatively rare occurrence now, and 
excite a thrill of universal horror and indignation. It is no 
doubt true that there are more arrests and convictions to-day, 
population being taken into account, than there were a century 
ago, but, so far from proving that crime is increasing, it rather 
argues the reverse. It shows the existence now of better 
laws and a higher moral standard among the mass of the 
people, leading to more determined and better directed efforts 
for the suppression of crime. A larger number of offenses 
are now punished as crimes than a century ago. It is true 
that the punishment meted out is much less severe—we no 
longer hang a man for stealing five shillings, but strive to 
reform and return him to his proper position in society—but, 
in the aggregate, the number of punishable offenses has been 
considerably increased. As an instance of this, reference 
may be made to drunkenness and the restrictions thrown 
around the liquor traffic. A large proportion of the arrests 
made to-day are directly chargeable to this innovation. 


8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


There is another reason why the great relative prevalence 
of crime to-day, as contrasted with bygone years, is apparent 
rather than real. Railroads and telegraph lines have annihi¬ 
lated distance, so far as. the transmission of news is con¬ 
cerned, while the multiplication of newspapers renders it 
possible for us to. read every morning of all the unusual or 
atrocious crimes that were perpetrated and discovered on the 
preceding day, throughout the civilized world. 

An additional explanation of this seeming contradiction may 
be found in better police regulations and the improved detect¬ 
ive methods, which prevail at present. It is not meant that 
men are now better efidowed than were their grandfathers, 
but rather that they possess greater advantages than did their 
ancestors. The improvements mentioned in the last para¬ 
graph have given an enormous advantage to those whose lives 
and abilities are devoted to the detection of crime and the 
arrest and conviction of criminals. In addition to this, the 
occupation of the detective has been reduced to something of a 
scientific character. Subject to many variations, it is true, 
there is still a decided similarity in most crimes naturally 
falling into the same class. The collection, classification and 
comparison of a multitude of authentic cases gives the trained 
detective of to-day a decided advantage over his predecessor, 
even of a generation ago. Thanks to this, the number of 
undiscovered crimes is constantly diminishing, while vastly 
more criminals are arrested and brought to justice, thus adding 
to the apparent prevalence of crime. The modern detective 
has one other decided advantage over his predecessor of a 
hundred years ago: popular sentiment more strongly con¬ 
demns crime at the present day than it did then. This is due 
in part to an awakened public conscience, but more largely to 
the extravagant penalties that were then provided for viola¬ 
tors of the law. In England, not much more than a century 
ago, one hundred and sixty different offenses were punishable 
with death. Such extreme measures could not fail to provoke 
animosity to the law, and induce the great majority of the 
people to shield from death one who had committed only a 
trivial offense. This lack of cooperation with the authorities, 


INTRODUCTION 


9 


on the part of the class now denominated “good citizens,” 
was largely responsible for the comparatively few arrests and 
convictions at the time referred to. 

Another explanation of the apparent increase of crime, as 
shown in more frequent convictions, appears in the circum¬ 
stance that crimes are less severely punished now than formerly. 
Terms of imprisonment have been materially shortened dur¬ 
ing the past century, months, in many instances, taking the 
place of years. As the law-breaking classes largely consist of 
habitual criminals, fully half of whose days are spent in 
prison, it follows that shorter terms mean more arrests and 
convictions, thus, apparently, increasing the number of crim¬ 
inals. When it is remembered that many old offenders in our 
large cities have been arrested and sent to prison scores and 
sometimes hundreds of times, the effect of this cause upon 
criminal statistics becomes evident. 

The author believes that a brighter era has dawned upon 
mankind; he sees it in more equal and humane laws, in a 
wider and more general dissemination of knowledge, in the 
awakened conscience of thousands of men and women who are 
forgetting something of self that they may reclaim and elevate 
their fellows. He hopes for more marked advancement in 
the immediate future than has been manifest in the recent 
past, and aspires to become an humble factor in the present 
world-wide movement in that direction. 

As suggested in the outset; good, in an active, positive 
sense, can only exist as a complement of possible evil. When 
better impulses and, consequently, better actions, have 
resulted from the conflict of sin and virtue in the universal 
human breast, humanity will learn that evil was not a mistake 
or a defeat of the plans of the Creator, but rather a manifesta¬ 
tion of His highest wisdom. All that live and err have a place 
in the great Universal Plan. 

“ So man, who here seems principal alone. 

Perhaps acts second to some sphere unknown, 

Touches some wheel, or verges to some goal; 

’Tis but a part we see, and not the whole.” 


CHAPTER II 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 

We are so familiar with the crime of murder, from per¬ 
sonal observations, gruesome stories and detailed accounts, 
with which the daily press literally teems, that we have come 
to regard it almost as a matter of course; a detestable and 
unnatural thing, surely, but something to be constantly 
expected. And yet, if we lay aside that indifference, born, not 
of sympathy, but rather of familiarity, which dulls all emo¬ 
tions, and calmly consider an isolated case of homicide, its 
perpetration becomes a veritable mystery that we are unable 
to solve. That one reasonable creature, finding pleasure in 
the society of his fellows and, in a certain sense at least, loving 
his neighbor, should take the life of another, appears so 
unreasonable that, were we not supplied with numerous well 
authenticated instances, we might, like the Asiatic king, 
when he first heard of the existence of ice, refuse to believe it 0 
possible. It is only when studied in this manner that the 
awful enormity of this crime, which, should it come to be 
universally practiced, would speedily exterminate the human 
race, dawns upon our minds. 

The careful study of almost any case of murder, and an 
analysis of the motives, passions and perversions that led to 
its commission, will broaden our conception of the character of 
human nature. Many men have given up their lives that 
others might live. Although the greatest and noblest of all 
human sacrifices, that of the Redeemer is far from being the 
only one that man has unselfishly offered to mankind. 
Whether we contemplate Arnold Winkelried, as, fired with 
patriotism, he rushed upon the spears of the advancing Aus¬ 
trian phalanx and died, that his brothers might live and 

IO 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


11 

Switzerland be free, or listen to the rude, but none the less 
godlike dying words of Jim Bludsoe from the pilot-house of 
the burning Prairie Belle, “I’ll hold her nozzle agin the bank 
till the last galoot’s ashore,” our hearts swell and we realize, 
with Lord Bacon, that if man is connected with the beasts 
of the field by his body, he is surely joined to God by his 
spirit. 

Contrast a case like one of these with a murder committed 
from motives of cupidity, and we have before us the heights 
and depths of human nature and begin to realize something of 
the immense expanse that separates a truly humane man from 
one who is vicious and debased; catch a glimpse of the widely 
diverging paths of virtue and of vice. Yielding to the highest 
instincts and impulses with which the human race is endowed, 
one gives up his dearest possession, existence, that his fellow 
creatures may live and be happy, while the other deprives him 
of his life for a handful of silver with which to carry on a 
drunken, licentious debauch. 

This contrast renders more than ever inexplicable the exist¬ 
ence of a deliberate murderer. But, if it furnishes an object- 
lesson of the degradation to which man often descends, it 
shows the lofty elevations that he sometimes attains, and 
suggests the only rational method for the complete suppres¬ 
sion of crime, viz., the moral elevation of the race, which can 
only be attained through the aid of better physical and conse¬ 
quently higher mental conditions. 

By this the author does not mean that crime is not to be 
ferreted out and its perpetrators punished—this course is as old 
as the first rude, patriarchal government and will be completely 
abandoned only upon the materialization of the Millennium 
—but, that moral education will decrease wrong-doing more 
rapidly than dungeons, blocks and scaffolds, because it 
decreases the number of possible subjects upon which that 
highly contagious disease, crime, may feed and continue to 
grow. 

Many writers have noted as curious the circumstance that 
the crime most severely punished by the criminal codes of all 
nations and ages, is the earliest one of which we have any 


12 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


authentic historical evidence, and that the first accusation or 
indictment, not counting the disobedience of our first parents, 
was one on the awful charge of murder—“The voice of thy 
brother’s blood crieth unto me from the ground.” 

These writers forget that in the opening chapters of 
Genesis are compressed facts and processes, which, if given 
in anything like detail, would fill volumes, yes, libraries. 
Accepting as true the orthodox account of the beginnings of 
human existence in this world, it is not difficult to find a 
rational explanation of the enormous crime of Cain. Although 
disposed of in a few lines, it must be remembered that long 
years elapsed between the posting of cherubim and a flaming 
sword to the eastward of the garden of Eden, and the day 
when “Cain rose up against Abel, his brother, and slew 
him.” 

In these years, Cain, the first-born of Adam, and of man¬ 
kind, had cultivated a character and an individuality of his 
own. Of these we know nothing, except by necessary infer¬ 
ence, but this renders clear the circumstance that he had 
developed marked tendencies to evil. This is apparent from 
the fact that his offering failed to find favor with the Lord, 
who, in the meantime, “had respect unto Abel, and to his 
offering.” It further appears that “Cain was very wroth, and 
his countenance fell,” when rebuked by the Almighty. But 
his evil heart is most clearly shown by the words of the Lord: 
“If thou doest well, shalt thou not be accepted? and if thou 
doest not well, sin lieth at the door.” 

The rage aroused in the heart of Cain, impotent so far as 
concerned his Maker, seems to have been transferred to his 
brother. Combined with the jealousy that had already found 
a lodgment there, it started into being what may well be 
designated the first instance of the homicidal impulse. It 
would appear that this was intensified by a conversation which 
he soon after had with his brother. It must be remembered 
that Abel was born in sin and possessed, consequently, of 
pride and vanity. What more natural than that he should 
exult over the acceptance of his own offering and taunt his 
companion for his failure? 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


*3 


Something of this view is taken by Milton, who thus briefly, 
yet graphically, describes the first fratricide: 

44 His offering soon propitious fire from Heaven 
Consumed with nimble glance and grateful steam, 

The other’s not, for his was not sincere; 

Whereat he inly ( 'raged; and, as they talked, 

Smote him in the midriff with a stone 
That beat out life; he fell, and, deadly pale 
Groaned out his soul with gushing blood effused.” 

The first murderer has not wanted defenders, and many 
arguments have been written to justify, or at least excuse, his 
diabolical act. Of these, perhaps Lord Byron heads the list. 
In his impassioned mystery, entitled “Cain,” he ascribes the 
rage of the fratricide to a deep-seated feeling that he had 
suffered injustice at the hands of the Almighty, and puts into 
his mouth the following impious words: 

“His! 

His pleasure! What was his high pleasure in 
The fumes of scorching flesh and smoking blood, 

To the pain of the bleating mothers, which 
Still yearn for their dead offspring? or the pangs 
Of the sad ignorant victims underneath 
Thy pious knife? Give way! this bloody record 
Shall not stand in the sun, to shame creation!” 

Byron makes Cain attempt the destruction of the altar and 
the sacrifice that had found acceptance. Abel opposes him, 
and Cain seizes a brand from the embers and kills his brother 
by striking him on the temples. 

Whatever view we take of the first homicide, it is apparent 
that in the long ages that have elapsed since its commission, 
the brutal passions of man have remained without very sub¬ 
stantial changes. Such alterations as can be noted are surely 
in the line of advancement. In these days of ours, brother 
sometimes takes the life of brother, it is true, but a modern 
instance of a fratricide committed before an altar consecrated 
to the worship of God, and by one who had come there to 
engage in a most exalted religious ceremony, can hardly be 
cited. So far, it goes to establish the position of the author. 


14 


t 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 

that the brutish passions and instincts of mankind are, and 
long have been, undergoing modifications; while, thanks to a 
higher civilization, the establishment of more lofty ideals and 
the spread of true religion, better impulses are beginning to 
permeate and control society. 

The case of Cain suggests the origin and nature of the 
homicidal impulse, a term somewhat vague in its meaning, 
and hence difficult to accurately define. Whether there is, in 
the normal human heart, a tendency or disposition to take the 
life of fellow creatures, as contra-distinguished from a tend¬ 
ency to commit crime in general, has been doubted by 
many. It is difficult, however, to account for many atrocious 
homicides on any other hypothesis. The absence of all 
apparent motive has caused many murder mysteries to go 
unsolved. Frequently, usually, in fact, the first real clue to 
the perpetration of a mysterious homicide is furnished by the 
discovery of a tangible motive. It is this matter that instantly 
engages the attention of the trained detective, into whose 
hands a murder case is placed. The first inquiries suggested 
to his mind are: Who would naturally profit by his death? 
Had the deceased enemies? Had he so-called friends who 
may have become estranged through real or fancied injuries? 
Had he a “love affair” that would be likely to call into play 
the passions of a jealous rival? Is it not possible that he had 
done some great wrong and refused to make reparation? Was 
he of a quarrelsome disposition, and if so, may not his death 
have resulted from a sudden and unforeseen affray? Was he 
slain for purposes of robbery? These, and other like ques¬ 
tions, are asked and their answers obtained as quickly and 
reliably as possible. Failing to discover any reasonable 
motive leaves the detective in a quandary, from which, usually, 
nothing short of a stroke of good fortune delivers him. 

The absence of a motive for the commission of a great 
crime is frequently employed to decided advantage by the 
defense, when the accused is brought to trial. Doubtless it 
often exists in cases where the prosecution is unable to show 
it. As a matter of fact, however, there can be no doubt that 
many murders are committed without any definite reason 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


i5 

existing in the mind of the perpetrator, unless it be an inher¬ 
ent disposition, or inclination, to take human life; the homi¬ 
cidal impulse. That actual manifestations of this impulse are 
rare does not argue strongly against its existence. In the 
introductory chapter the statement was made that few of us 
have ever been seriously tempted to take the life of another. 
It is nevertheless true that most of us have experienced a 
desire, momentary perhaps, but none the less real, to kill. 
We have not regarded this as a legitimate temptation, 
because, thanks to our better nature and the inherent horror 
with which we regard homicide, the impulse has been of short 
duration and has left little impression upon our minds. To 
one of cruel instincts, weak conscience and a predilection to 
crime, however, the outcome may be far different. 

The circumstance that murder is the first real crime 
recorded by authentic history goes far to establish the theory 
of homicidal impulse. To a certain extent it is true that the 
pastoral life of the beginnings of mankind reduced to a mini¬ 
mum the motives and inducements for wrong-doing; yet why 
should one of the foulest and most unnatural offenses which 
sixty centuries of sin have nurtured and matured, stand first in 
the order of time? Accept the suggestion that, as a portion 
of the dark heritage of sin that has come down to us from our 
first parents, is included a germ of the same horrid impulse 
that overpowered Cain and made him a vagabond and a 
wanderer on the face of the earth, and the solution is com¬ 
paratively easy. Cain knew nothing of homicide, or, indeed, 
of death, except that of animals, and could have had no just con¬ 
ception of the enormity and awful consequences of his offense. 
With little to oppose it, the impulse prevailed, and the deed 
was done. 

That this horrid impulse had thus early found a lodg¬ 
ment in the heart of man, may appear remarkable, but our 
wonder will disappear when we consider the murderous char¬ 
acter of the tempter of mankind, and that the first effect of his 
beguilements was to introduce death into the world. What 
more reasonable than that the impulse to slay entered the 
heart and brain from which all hope of earthly immortality 


i6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


had been banished? In falling from his high estate, man 
surely inherited many of the characteristics of the tempter, and 
why not his murderous impulse? 

On this point we have the highest possible authority, that of 
our Divine Master. In the eighth chapter of the Gospel 
According to St. John the existence of the homicidal impulse 
appears to be distinctly stated. The Jews were seeking to kill 
Christ, and, in answer to his sharp reproaches, boastfully 
announced that they were “Abraham’s children.” To which 
the Master most significantly replied: 

“Ye are of your father the devil, and the lusts of your 
father ye will do. He was a murderer from the beginning, 
and abode not in the truth, because there is no truth in him. ’ ’ 

There are many possible interpretations and explanations 
of passages of Scripture, but to a layman this statement 
clearly points to an inheritance from the father of falsehood 
and murder, of a disposition to kill. This text is given addi¬ 
tional force from the circumstance that the Jews were bent 
upon the murder of Christ, and took up stones to accomplish 
their object, and that he only escaped by rendering himself 
invisible, “going through the midst of them, and so passed by. ” 

Children, with little knowledge and experience, more 
nearly occupy the position of Cain than do persons of mature 
years. Who has not noticed the blind unreasoning rage of a 
crossed child, and heard infant lips shout aloud the awful 
words, “I will kill you”? There are exceptions, of course, 
but most children early manifest a decided disposition to 
destroy animal and insect life. Many a fond mother’s heart 
has thrilled with dismay at discovering her beloved infant 
prodigy in the act of pulling the wings and legs off a fly, or 
decapitating a toad. If these early manifestations of a desire 
to slay are not chargeable to an inherent germ or impulse, 
how are we to account for them? Except in rare instances, 
not from observation or hearsay, surely. What explanation 
remains unless it be the impulse to take life? 

Something of the same kind is observable in matured man¬ 
hood, although here the exceptions are more numerous. A 
large proportion of i*s find a pleasure, vague and indefinable, 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


i7 


but none the less actual, in the destruction of animals. It is 
this that imparts more than half the zest to the chase. No 
end of animal life has been wantonly taken, not for the pur¬ 
pose of procuring food and raiment, but for the mere pleasure 
of killing. What is this but a slight manifestation of that 
which, unrestrained, becomes the true homicidal impulse? 

It is recorded by Suetonius, the great Roman historian, in 
his “Lives of the Twelve Caesars,” that Tiberius, the second 
emperor, took undisguised delight in putting his fellows to 
death. This he did upon the slightest pretext, and in the 
most cruel manner. In his infancy and youth his favorite 
amusement was pulling flies to pieces and torturing animals. 
Nurtured by an ambitious, cruel, and murderous mother, the 
awful tendency to take life, which in our day education and 
good example usually eradicate, or at least subdue, was given 
full sway, became the ruling passion of his life and stamped 
him as a monster of iniquity. 

When Nero, himself one of the best of all historical 
instances of a man subject to this awful mania, had specially 
and outrageously wronged the people, how did he placate 
them? By presenting them with gifts? No; by inviting 
them to the amphitheatre to see brutish beasts and still more 
savage men engage in a life and death conflict; to see gladi¬ 
ator hew down brother gladiator, and lions tear the delicate 
limbs of Christian maidens. A homicide himself, Nero, 
better than good and virtuous men, understood this death¬ 
dealing impulse of the human heart, and the bloody scenes he 
presented to the populace never failed to make them forget his 
own oppressive acts and manifest the most intense satisfaction. 
Other rulers have followed his infamous example, and have 
usually found that their rude and almost conscienceless sub¬ 
jects fully appreciated the horrid entertainment. 

We all manifest a lively interest in occurrences in some 
respects similar to personal experiences of our own, and we 
usually excuse or condemn them according to the general rule 
we have adopted in dealing with like matters that have arisen 
in our own lives. The suggestion of the homicidal impulse 
appears to be the only explanation broad enough to cover the 


i8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


almost universal interest which mankind takes in stories of 
murder, whether real or fictitious. The columns of a daily 
newspaper first turned to by nine out of ten, are those 
wherein are chronicled the homicides and other revolting 
crimes of the day. The most popular works of fiction have 
almost invariably been those where the interest hinges on a dark 
murder mystery. Great novelists, like Dickens, Sue, Hugo, 
Kingsley, Ainsworth, Dumas and Doyle, have appreciated 
this demand on the part of the public, and, no doubt, derived 
a decided personal pleasure in writing to supply it. More 
than that, many of the greatest works of art, both in sculp¬ 
ture and painting, deal with cases of homicide, often in its 
most revolting form. 

If it is said that this can be accounted for on the principle 
that there is something fascinating about the horrible and 
unnatural, the reply is that the horrible only attracts when 
connected with some form of human depravity, murder far 
more than any other. We turn with a shudder and a heart¬ 
ache from a hasty glance at a ten-line item telling how a 
poor workman has been caught in a machine and horribly 
mangled, or another that briefly recounts the fearful sufferings 
of the victim of a gasoline explosion, and eagerly read, fairly 
revel sometimes, in a two-column account of a double murder 
and suicide. The gentlemen of the press well understand this 
peculiarity on the part of their patrons, and an editor who 
gave equal prominence and space to harrowing incidents that 
he devoted to unnatural murders, would soon find himself, 
like Othello, one of the most famous uxorcides of fiction, with¬ 
out an occupation. 

As the author is not desirous of presenting an object- 
lesson to illustrate the last sentence, he will suspend the work 
of attempted philosophizing, and pass on to the task he has 
set himself—the presentation of instances of homicide, from 
the great fields of fact and fiction. 

Among American authors, and those of the whole world 
might be included, for that matter, few have seemed to 
delight in the recital of stories of homicide, and a dissection 
and discussion of the motives that lead to it, to so marked an 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


19 


extent as Edgar Allan Poe, and few have equaled his work in 
that direction. Of a supersensitive, morbid nature, and a 
victim of intemperance in many of its worst forms, he appears 
to have had an intense sympathy with what we have desig¬ 
nated, for lack of a clearer and more comprehensive term, 
the “Homicidal Impulse.” With marvelous, not to say 
repulsive, fidelity to the smallest and most horrible detail, he 
seems fairly to gloat over murder. He studied it as an art, 
and his conclusions, drawn as they were from instances in all 
ages of the world, are entitled to great consideration. In his 
tale of “Murello,” he gives an excellent instance of the 
operation of the homicidal impulse. In this work he deline¬ 
ates the desire to kill as springing into spontaneous existence 
in a human soul, or developing from the encysted germ we 
have referred to as very possibly existing in each and every 
breast. Motive, except from this cause, is absent, and not the 
slightest provocation is offered. The husband of the sad 
heroine of the sombre tale is represented as being seized with 
a burning and, apparently, uncontrollable desire for her death. 
In a recital of his controlling emotions, the murderer is made 
to say: 

“My wife’s manner oppressed me as a spell. I could no 
longer bear the touch of her wan fingers, nor the low tone of 
her musical language, nor the lustre of her melancholy eyes. 
She knew all this, but did not upbraid; she seemed conscious 
of my weakness or folly, and called it fate. Yet was she 
woman, and pined away daily. In time the crimson spot 
settled steadily on the cheek, and the blue veins upon the 
pale forehead became prominent; and one instant my nature 
melted into pity, but in the next I met the glance of her mean¬ 
ing eyes, and then my soul sickened and became giddy with 
the giddiness of one who gazes downward into some dreary 
and unfathomable abyss. 

“Shall I then say that I longed with an earnest and con¬ 
suming desire for the moment for Murello’s death? I did; 
but the fragile spirit clung to its tenement of clay for many 
days—for many weeks and irksome months—until my tortured 
nerves obtained the mastery over my mind, and I grew furious 


20 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


with delay, and, with the heart of a fiend, cursed the days and 
the hours and the bitter moments, which seemed to lengthen 
and lengthen as her gentle life declined like shadows in the 
dyings of the day. * ’ 

In the estimation of many, the utterance of such words as 
those quoted above, if taken as honestly expressing the real 
feelings and sentiments of their user, is clearly indicative of 
insanity. It is no part of the author’s plan to enter into a dis¬ 
cussion of this question, yet it may be remarked, in passing, 
that true instances of homicidal mania have generally been 
held to be cases of insanity. Long courses of intemperance 
and indulgence in unnatural practices of many kinds will fre¬ 
quently dethrone the reason and leave the ruling passion in 
undisputed possession of the citadel. It is with the impulse to 
take life, as it exists in minds that still retain their balance, 
still understand their relations to their fellows, that we have 
to do. The line of demarkation is difficult to draw sometimes, 
and juries have disagreed in many noted cases. 

As all know, President Lincoln fell at the hand of an 
assassin who was one of a number of conspirators that had 
determined to accomplish that end. In this case hatred, 
revenge, a perverted notion of patriotism and a desire for 
notoriety, were undoubtedly present and united to call into 
activity the latent or only half-awakened homicidal impulse. 
Had this last-named and most powerful incentive to murder 
been absent, it may well be doubted whether Booth would 
have fired the bullet that removed from scenes of most useful 
activity one of the best and most conscientious men that ever 
lived, and plunged a nation into the deepest grief. 

The case of Charles J. Guiteau is still more nearly in line. 
After his cowardly assassination of President Garfield, he was 
arrested and brought to trial. The only defense offered was 
that of insanity, which did not avail to save the wretch from 
the scaffold. In his case the homicidal impulse was unmis¬ 
takably present; indeed, he clearly manifested it by his con¬ 
duct in court during his long protracted trial. Guiteau was 
an egotist of the most pronounced type; his audacious claims 
had not been recognized, and he, apparently, decided to teach 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


21 


the world that he was no ordinary man to be thrust carelessly 
aside, and to gratify his spirit of revenge and the more gen¬ 
eral impulse to take life at the same time. 

These cases will be treated more at large in their proper 
place, in a chapter on assassination; they are referred to here 
as illustrating the operation of the homicidal impulse. 

Within recent years what is known as the Whitechapel dis¬ 
trict, in the city of London—one of the lowest and most 
degraded portions of the great metropolis—has been the scene 
of a long series of most brutal and, to all appearances, unpro¬ 
voked murders. The victims were always women belonging 
to the most abandoned class. Sometimes they were murdered 
in their wretched rooms, but generally they were struck down 
in one of the narrow streets, or courts, by which the dis¬ 
reputable district is intersected. Once or twice a half-muffled 
cry has attracted the police, who found a ghastly, mutilated 
corpse, but no trace of the murderer. 

Like the “Jibbenainosy” of Dr. Bird’s famous American 
novel, “The Nick of the Woods,” “Jack the Ripper,’’ as the 
unknown assassin has come to be styled, sets a mark upon 
each of his victims. As the reader will remember, “The Nick 
of the Woods,” or “Jibbenainosy’’ in the Indian tongue, turned 
out to be a supposed peaceable and inoffensive old Quaker 
named Nathan, who had suffered a great wrong at the hands 
of a certain band of savages and had sworn to be revenged. 
Whenever he killed one of his enemies, he slashed a rude cross 
with his hunting knife upon the dead man’s naked breast, as a 
mute notification that he had claimed another victim. “Jack 
the Ripper’’ always mutilated his victims in a most revolting 
manner, which was quite surprising, both from its uniformity 
and from the fact that it seemed to exhibit considerable 
knowledge of anatomy on the part of the perpetrator. Large 
rewards have been offered for the arrest and conviction of the 
monster, but, notwithstanding this, and although the police of 
London, the detectives of Scotland Yard, and the “Sherlock 
Holmeses’ ’ of the press, have long been put upon their mettle, 
the mystery, at the present writing, remains as dark and 
inscrutable as ever. In passing, the author cannot forbear 


22 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


inquiring why the famous detective-novelist of England does 
not turn his great talent into actual use and make known the 
identity of “ Jack the Ripper. ’ ’ Very possibly it is because real 
detective work is more difficult than the unearthing of a 
criminal whom the author has himself “planted” for that very 
purpose. 

It is possible that the murderer has once, and only once, 
been seen by a person who has survived to report the circum¬ 
stance. This was on the night of September 30, 1888, when 
the bodies of two women were found in the streets. One of 
the two victims, a Mrs. Eddows, was seen in conversation 
with a man in Miter Square, Oldgate, but a few minutes 
before the time, and only a short distance from the spot where 
her mangled body was discovered. The presumption that this 
man was her murderer is quite strong. He was described as 
“aged about thirty to thirty-five; height five feet seven inches, 
with brown hair and large moustache; dressed respectably; 
wore a pea-jacket, a muffler, and a cloth cap, with a peak of. 
the same material. ’ ’ 

In all, ten Whitechapel murders have been committed. 
The first mutilated body was found on the night of April 3, 
1888, near Osborn and Wentworth streets, Whitechapel; the 
name of the victim being Emma Smith. August 7th, follow¬ 
ing, Martha Turner was killed in Commercial Street, Spittal- 
fields; while on the 31st of the same month the body of Mrs. 
Nichols was found in Bucks-ras, Whitechapel. On the 30th 
of September following this crime, the murderous wretch 
claimed two victims; Elizabeth Strue being killed in Berner 
Street, Whitechapel, and Mrs. Eddows in Miter Square, 
Oldgate. On the night of November 9, 1888, the body of Mrs. 
Jane Kelley was found in Dorset Street, Spittal-fields. 

Whether the homicidal impulse of the wretch had become 
satiated with this long list of victims, is of course not known, 
but quite a long interval elapsed before he again set his 
infernal trademark on. the body of another unfortunate 
woman, that of Alice Mackenzie, whom he murdered in Castle 
Alley, Whitechapel. It was not until February 13, 1891, 
that he claimed his ninth victim, Frances Coles, whose body 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


23 


was found in Royal Mint Street. A few days later the tenth 
and last body was found in the same locality, since which date 
no well authenticated case has come to light. 

Numerous atrocious murders, having points in common 
with the Whitechapel horrors, committed in England, on the 
Continent of Europe, and even in the United States, have 
been ascribed to “Jack the Ripper,” but it does not appear 
probable that he was concerned in any of these. The mutila¬ 
tions were done in a comparatively bungling manner and 
point to imitators of the original London assassin. 

The theory most generally advanced and believed, touch¬ 
ing this depraved murderer, is that he has suffered from 
intimacy with some abandoned woman, probably in the 
Whitechapel district, and, like Nathan, has sworn vengeance 
upon her class. Owing to the intervals that elapse between 
the outrages, many have surmised that “Jack” is a sailor, who 
makes long voyages. On account of the scientific way in 
which he mutilates his victims, others have suggested that he 
is a physician or surgeon. 

Although a morbid spirit of revenge probably lies at the 
bottom of the mystery, the operation of the homicidal impulse 
seems clearly present. A revenge, however deeply implanted 
in a depraved heart, would, apparently, be gratified in time, 
but the vindictiveness of this monster seems absolutely 
insatiable. Whatever cause lay at the beginning of his awful 
career, the impulse to kill, which, like jealousy, grows by 
what it feeds on, no doubt urges him on, and may add other 
chapters to his horrid work before his own death closes the 
bloody volume. 

The last suggestion receives considerable support from a 
story recently current in London, which made “Jack the 
Ripper” to be a medical man of high standing. So long as 
the identity of the man is withheld from the public, the report 
must necessarily be taken with considerable allowance. 
According to the story, the physician in question some years 
ago developed a mania for causing pain in others. After a 
time his wife consulted some of his medical friends, who 
in turn called in the detectives of Scotland Yard. Blood- 


24 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


stained clothing and other evidences of murder were found in 
his house, and the opinion was reached that he was none other 
than “Jack the Ripper.” Interrogated upon the subject, he 
denied all knowledge of the matter, but admitted that there 
were frequently intervals of twenty-four hours of which he had 
not the slightest recollection. As a result of the investiga¬ 
tion, which was privately conducted, the doctor was confined 
in an asylum on a charge of insanity, after which the White¬ 
chapel murders entirely ceased. This story, which has about 
it a strong flavor of “Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde,” may be 
entirely fictitious, but it suggests a very reasonable solution of 
th$ awful mystery. 

Those who delight in the possession and exercise of the 
homicidal impulse, unless, indeed, they have passed com¬ 
pletely under its influence, seek some form of justification for 
the awful crime of murder; not justification to the world only 
should their dark deeds be discovered, but to themselves as 
well. Lord Byron makes that evil genius of his, “Manfred,” 
upon the cliff of Jungfrau, say: 

“ * * * * I have ceased 

To justify my deeds unto myself— 

The last infirmity of evil.” 

In seeming obedience to this, trifling injuries are often 
exaggerated and sustained until the would-be perpetrator can 
“screw his courage to the sticking place.” Indeed, it cannot 
well be doubted that many acts of revenge, where the injury 
has been real and great, have been ultimately consummated 
through the powerful stimulus of the inherent disposition to 
slay. Commendable, or only slightly reprehensible acts, have 
often been made to serve this dark purpose. In the latter 
class falls a curious work written by an English clergyman, 
named Thomas R. Malthus, about the beginning of the pres¬ 
ent century. 

In the judgment, or rather superheated imagination of this 
writer, over-population is the impending danger of the world, 
and vice, crime, and murder itself, are the agencies appointed 
by the Creator for keeping the growth of the human race 
within proper limits. His book produced a sensation when it 


THE HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 


2 5 


appeared, and gave rise to not a few curious publications fol¬ 
lowing out the same line of thought. All these later books 
were ostensibly serious, yet, in the light of after years, some 
of them would seem to have been satirical, both in conception 
and expression. 

One of the professed disciples of Malthus was an anony¬ 
mous writer, whose absurd generalizations, probably written 
in a satirical vein, aroused the animadversion of a large class 
of hostile reviewers. The critics believed, or professed to 
believe, that one of the most extraordinary of these Malthusian 
volumes was an exposd of the ulterior aims of an organized 
clique. The criticism is, in a sense, amusing, but it is hardly 
worth quoting. The interest in the publication centers around 
its contents. The author cites the theory of Malthus as the 
groundwork of his argument, and follows it out to its legiti¬ 
mate conclusion. He extols slavery and infanticide as legiti¬ 
mate means for the achievement of a great end. In fact, he 
cites with approval the practice, in the latter regard, of the 
nations of antiquity, who, in consequence, suffered but little 
from over-population, and urges the adoption of legislation 
providing for the killing of all the children of the poor exceed¬ 
ing the limit of three in each family, except in Ireland, 
where the limit should be one. To carry this design into 
execution, he advocates the formation of an association under 
the legislative sanction. He also proposes State supervision 
of all persons who might not own property of a specified 
value, who should be required to surrender their children to 
be put to death by suffocation. To reconcile parents to this 
wholesale “Slaughter of the Innocents,” he would have intro¬ 
duced a virtual system of bribery, granting an income to those 
who voluntarily parted with their infants, especially liberal 
rewards being bestowed upon those who rendered themselves 
wholly childless. By way of defense of his position, he took 
the ground that parents had no natural right to rear more chil¬ 
dren than were required by the wants of society. Nor did he 
concede the inherent right of an infant to its own life, claim¬ 
ing that of this the State was the sole judge. He suggested 
that mothers might be reconciled to the murder of their babes 


26 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


by presenting to their minds gay and lively images, and 
through being taught that it was absolutely necessary that a 
certain number of children be sacrificed. The massacred 
infants were to be interred in beautiful colonnades, to be 
known as “The Infant’s Paradise,” to be adorned with 
flowers and plants, and to be enlivened by scenes of chastened 
recreation. Lastly, the author explained his theory of “pain¬ 
less extinction.” Infants were to be asphyxiated during their 
first slumber, which was thus transformed into the unending 
sleep of death. 

This volume, which is in itself a curio, was published 
anonymously, and was probably intended as a satire. It was 
not so regarded, however, by the irate reviewers of the time. 
They called it “The Book of Murder.” One of these indig¬ 
nant gentlemen thus quaintly denounces the hideous joke: 
“The veil is at length rent; the curtain, behind which have 
hitherto lurked the most atrocious conspiracies against 
humanity, has at length been drawn up. With a false and 
insidious philosophy, they have nourished the most foul and 
murderous sentiments in their hearts. With the fawning and 
hypocritical cant of seeking for the safety and peace of society, 
they have actually plotted and schemed and prepared the 
means of perpetrating the murder of more than one-half of 
the infants to be born into the world, the assassination of more 
than half of the future races of mankind. ’ ’ 

The work of Malthus, and even that of the anonymous 
author referred to, made many disciples. For the most part, 
these were innocent “cranks,” but much evil has been done 
to mankind through the propagation of such monstrous doc¬ 
trines. In the ensuing chapter a remarkable instance of this 
will be given, as further illustrating the homicidal impulse, 
and showing how readily it is sometimes forced into a state of 
activity. 


CHAPTER III 


A CURIOUS INSTANCE OF THE HOMICIDAL 
IMPULSE 

Early in the present century there was committed in several 
of the smaller cities and towns of France and Germany a series 
of crimes of a revolting character. Although separate and 
distinct, they were so far connected that they all resulted from 
one single motive, and were perpetrated by the same indi¬ 
vidual, who was entirely without confederates. So far as the 
author knows, the principal facts were first collected in 
Howitt’s Journal, published more than sixty years ago, and it 
is from that source that much of the present material has been 
drawn. The better to present the case to the reader, the 
matter has been put into the form of a connected narrative, 
although the salient points remain as they appear in the first 
published accounts. 

One bright morning in 1828, a laborer named Jacques 
Moulin set out from his home to walk to Puy St. O’Stein, a 
small village in the province of Languedoc, France. As he 
approached the quaint old town, traveling along a public and 
much-frequented highway, he was shot and killed from the 
roadside. The police were speedily notified, and at once 
began an investigation, which, however, led to nothing tan¬ 
gible, so far as providing a clue to the identity of the perpe¬ 
trator. The report of the magistrate who conducted the 
inquiry showed that the deceased was a quiet, inoffensive 
man, generally regarded as rather simple-minded. All the 
witnesses agreed that he had not an enemy in the world, 
being, on the contrary, a universal favorite with all who knew 
him. Robbery was evidently not the motive of the crime, for 
on the body was found a sum of money, small, it is true, but 
quite as much as a poor peasant could be expected to carry. 

27 


28 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


The magistrate’s conclusion was that the unfortunate Jacques 
had been mistaken for another person, against whom the mur¬ 
derer had a grudge, or from whose body he expected to secure 
a substantial sum of money. 

And yet the homicide had not been committed entirely 
outside human sight and hearing. When the first person 
attracted by the shot arrived upon the scene, he found, seated 
beside the body, an old man with a wooden leg, who was 
complacently engaged in reading a well-thumbed book. 
Upon being brought before the magistrate, this person told 
quite a coherent and natural story, which failed, however, to 
throw the slightest light upon the mysterious murder. 

He deposed that, while seated upon the river bank, a short 
distance from Puy St. O’Stein, he was startled by a report 
from some sort of firearm, which seemed to proceed from the 
hedge behind him. Then, for the first time, he noticed 
Moulin, who cried out, “Eh! mon Dieu, Porquoi?” (Oh! My 
God! Why?), and instantly fell forward upon his face in the 
dust of the road. When interrogated by the magistrate as to 
his subsequent conduct, the old cripple explained that he had 
risen and approached the prostrate man as quickly as the 
nature of his infirmity permitted. He speedily satisfied him¬ 
self that life was extinct, after which he looked carefully in all 
directions in hope of espying the murderer, but was unable to 
see any one. His crippled condition rendered it impossible 
for him to raise the body, so he sat down and philosophically 
awaited the arrival of assistance. 

The occurrence excited great interest and wonder in the 
community, but the utter absence of any conceivable motive 
on the part of any one to commit the crime, rendered fruitless 
all efforts on the part of the authorities to discover the mur¬ 
derer. 

A few weeks later, at a small tavern on the road leading 
from St. Gervaise to Clermont, another mysterious and sen¬ 
sational murder was committed. The victim was a man 
named Auguste Vivier, a traveler, who had stopped at the 
tavern to procure some needed refreshment. Like the 
laborer of Languedoc, Vivier was killed by a gun-shot wound. 


INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 29 

He was found by the innkeeper and his wife, lying with his 
face upon the ground, where he had fallen from a bench upon 
which he had been sitting. It seemed rather a remarkable 
coincidence that the only witness should be the philosophical 
old man with the wooden leg, who, being on his way to St. 
Gervaise, had likewise stopped there for some refreshment. 
The old cripple stated that while the deceased and himself 
were sitting on opposite benches, somebody had fired a gun or 
pistol, he could not say which, from behind the garden paling, 
when Vivier immediately fell forward to the ground. 
Crippled as he was, he had been unable to pursue the assassin, 
or even follow quickly enough to discover his identity, but he 
had called loudly for help. 

Public excitement had barely subsided when a third mur¬ 
der, equally mysterious and seemingly as motiveless, was 
committed in the neighboring province of Guienne. This 
time the victim was a silversmith of Lausanne, who, while 
taking an evening’s recreation in a little boat on the Garonne, 
was fatally shot through the body. 

Like poor Moulin, the silversmith was entirely alone at the 
time the deed was perpetrated, but, as in the former case, 
there had been a witness. This, as the reader will doubtless 
surmise, was none other than our friend with the wooden leg. 
The coincidence went even further, for he was reclining on 
the bank of the river immured in the contents of his dog-eared 
book. 

Seventy years ago, the rural police of France were 
undoubtedly easy-going and more interested in discussing the 
contents of wine cellars than in detecting crime, yet it began 
to dawn upon them that the literary cripple had fallen into a 
decided habit of being present when mysterious murders were 
committed, and, in what may be termed a “lucid interval,” 
they took the old man into custody. The mere circumstance 
that he had been the sole witness to three assassinations would 
probably not have sufficed to arouse any special suspicion on 
the part of these Gallic Dogberrys, but the murdered man had 
not died without making an ante-mortem statement. Retain¬ 
ing his self-possession, he averred, that while pressing one 


30 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


hand to his side he had raised himself in the boat and looked 
about for the murderer. The only person to be seen was an 
old man lying prone on the grass engaged in reading a book. 

What, in those days, was termed a most rigid search, dis¬ 
closed nothing upon him but a book, a tobacco pouch, and 
money to the amount of two francs and five centimes—about 
forty-two cents—none of the articles being to the smallest 
extent incriminating, or even suspicious. 

Being interrogated, he answered without the slightest 
reserve, seeming rather anxious to give any information in 
his possession. He gave his name as Armande Geraud, and 
said that he had served in Marshal Soult’s division throughout 
the campaigns in Italy and Austria. He had saved the mar¬ 
shal’s life at Austerlitz, in which battle he had lost a leg. 
Ever since that memorable day, he had received a pension 
from Soult. He had a little son at school at Bordeaux, and 
had been on his way to visit him when taken into custody. 
He gave his age as fifty-nine, and said that he was a stranger 
in the province. The notes of the police contained the minute 
that his complexion was sallow and his countenance thought¬ 
ful. His education was above the average, and the cast of his 
mind rather philosophic. This mental trait, in the opinion of 
the police, indicated a possibility for the perpetration of fraud 
which might have induced a disposition toward the commis¬ 
sion of a crime of violence. The book which he carried with 
him, a well-thumbed volume, was a French translation of an 
English work on “Over-population,” by a clergyman named 
Malthus. 

The police promptly investigated the man’s story. Marshal 
Soult not only corroborated the statement of Armande Geraud, 
as he was supposed to be, but added that the party in question 
had been a brave and honest soldier, and, in the opinion of the 
gallant Marshal of France, he was incapable of any base or 
criminal act. Apparently this confirmed one part of the sup¬ 
posed culprit’s story. The next point to be investigated was 
the parentage of the boy at Bordeaux, and the whereabouts of 
the latter. Inquiry was made at the latter point concerning 
the alleged son of Geraud. For a long time no child answering 


INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 31 


the description given by the prisoner could be found at any of 
the schools in that city. At length it was learned that a boy 
of thirteen years had, within a comparatively recent time, left 
one of the pauper schools of the municipality to secure employ¬ 
ment in a small shop of disreputable character in the suburbs. 
Here he acted as shoeblack and errand-boy. Upon gaining 
this information, the police notified the suspected murderer of 
what they had ascertained. The old man seemed to be com¬ 
pletely overwhelmed with grief. His acting, if acting it was, 
was so consummate that, joined to the reports elicited 
through the investigation, the police did not for a moment 
doubt his innocence. Accordingly he was discharged from 
custody, and a few francs were given him by the magistrate 
in order that he might be enabled more comfortably to pursue 
his journey toward Bordeaux, whither he went with a view of 
rescuing his unfortunate child from the disreputable surround¬ 
ings into which he had fallen. 

But the old soldier of the First Empire, with his wooden 
leg afid precious volume of Malthus, did not here terminate 
his extraordinary experiences as the solitary witness of 
mysterious murders. For several years he disappeared from 
the notice of the police, but modestly presented himself again 
in 1836. On August 15th of that year an English family 
named Stuart arrived at Godesburg, a small town on the 
Rhine, and took up their abode at the principal hotel of the 
place. They were accompanied by a Prussian valet and an 
English maid. There had been a mutual promise of marriage 
between the latter, but the engagement had been broken off, 
in consequence of the dissatisfaction on the part of the young 
woman with the character of her lover. On the evening of 
their arrival the two left the hotel together for a walk along 
the road that led to Rolandseck. The valet returned alone at 
ten o’clock, looking very pale. When interrogated concern¬ 
ing his companion by members of the Stuart family, he dis¬ 
claimed any knowledge of her whereabouts. The alarm and 
distress of her employers was extreme, and they were greatly 
horrified when, on the next morning, her corpse was found at 
the foot of an apple tree standing on the high road, with a 


32 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


bullet wound in the right side. That the motive of the 
unknown assassin was not robbery was shown by the fact that 
several articles of jewelry and a little money was found upon 
her person. As a matter of course, the valet was arrested 
and arraigned before a magistrate, charged with the murder. 
His story appeared utterly preposterous. In substance it was 
that Jane Simpson, the maid, had urged him to throw stones 
into the fruit trees on the road-side, notwithstanding the fact 
that he had assured her that the apples were totally unfit to 
eat. She continued to beg him, and, complying with her 
request, he finally looked about for stones which he might 
throw into the trees, and while thus engaged, at some little 
distance from his sweetheart, he heard a shot which seemed 
to have been fired from the field beyond the trees, and the 
unfortunate maid fell to the ground with a shriek. He said 
that he perceived that his situation was a very compromising 
one, and he was apprehensive that he would be accused of her 
murder. Accordingly, he made the best of his way back to 
the inn and denied any knowledge of the girl’s fate. This 
tale was not believed, and, indeed, appearances were strongly 
against him; he was tried, found guilty, and executed at 
Cologne. 

This succession of tragic events so seriously affected Mrs. 
Stuart’s nervous system that her physician advised a delay of 
a few days at Godesburg. By September 3rd she began to 
convalesce, and was persuaded by her husband to take a short 
drive through the surrounding country. On reaching a 
wooded eminence, on the road leading to Rolandseck, the 
carriage was halted and the occupants alighted. Mrs. Stuart, 
not feeling equal to the exertion of climbing the hill, 
remained reclining on the ground in company with a German 
maid whom she had hired to take the place of the English 
maid who had been murdered. Mr. Stuart, accompanied by 
a favorite dog, ascended the hill. Having reached the top, he 
passed under a ruined arch, covered by a dense growth of 
shrubbery and vines, and from which an extensive view of the 
charming scenery peculiar to that part of Germany could be 
had. While thus engaged, the report of a firearm of some 



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wm 












■ 














STRANGE MURDER IN A CAFE 


PAGE 35 



















































































































































































































































INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 33 

sort from the woods beneath, followed by a cry, startled him. 
The recent tragic death of Jane Simpson at once occurred to 
his mind, and, filled with alarm, he hurried down the hill, 
preceded by his dog. Here he found his wife sitting where he 
had left her; she had fainted, but was recovering. One side 
of her bonnet had been cut away by the shot and the maid had 
been wounded in the arm. Mr. Stuart, with his son and 
some of the people of the neighborhood, at once proceeded to 
search the woods and bushes in all directions. The instinct 
of the dog, however, was keener than that of the men; he 
made a sudden dart into the corner of the thicket, and began 
barking loudly at something which he seemed to have dis¬ 
covered there. 

Arriving upon the scene, Mr. Stuart found an old man 
seated upon the ground under a tree, intently engaged in read¬ 
ing a book. It was none other than Armande Geraud, the 
hero of Austerlitz and the protege of Marshal Soult, who, after 
eight years retirement from active service as a witness in 
mysterious cases of assassination, had suddenly reappeared upon 
the scene of action. So far from being perturbed at the 
interruption of his literary pursuits, he placed a twig in his 
book to mark a striking passage of the unique statistician, 
Malthus, and, with a smile that would have done credit to a 
Socrates, looked up inquiringly at the dog and his human 
companions. When asked if he had seen anybody pass he 
glanced at the closed volume and smilingly shook his head, as 
if to indicate that such a thing was altogether out of the 
question while perusing such an absorbing book. Satisfied that 
he could gain no information of value from the old man, Mr. 
Stuart was about to hurry away to search other portions of 
the wood, when a peculiar expression of mingled triumph and 
satisfaction upon the cripple’s face attracted his attention, 
and he decided to ask him to accompany him to the town. 
He followed without the smallest objection, and with as much 
alacrity as his wooden leg permitted. The details of the affair 
being communicated to the police, the old man was placed 
under arrest. 

The suspected individual said that his name was Gottlieb 


34 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Rinhalter, and that he had served through the campaigns of 
1812 and 1813, having lost his leg in the battle of Leipsic. To 
prove his assertions, he showed a paper certifying to the fact, 
bearing the signature of an inferior officer who had long since 
died. Being asked what were his means of support, he 
answered that he maintained himself by rendering services as 
an accountant and a calculator. Being examined, he showed 
that he could write well and possessed some knowledge of 
figures, besides having an ingenious method of calculation, 
which he had taught himself. From the character of the book 
which he carried, the magistrate noted that he evidently took 
a decided interest in the statistical estimates with which it 
abounded, its dog-eared and dirty condition showing how long 
and how closely it had been studied. No weapons were found 
upon him, and as his account of himself was most satisfactory, 
he was discharged. 

For the ensuing two years the maimed old soldier seems 
to have confined his attention to the arguments and statistics 
of Mai thus, relieving them, it may be, by dipping into the 
pages of those anonymous authors who carried his theories 
forward to their legitimate conclusions. At any rate, no 
mention of him is discovered in the criminal annals of France 
from the time of his discharge by the authorities at Godes- 
burg until the month of March, 1838, when he again presented 
himself to the attention of the police. 

One evening in that month, a man was noticed striding 
hurriedly along the principal street of the ancient city of 
Wittenberg, in Prussian Saxony—a city made famous for all 
time as the cradle of the great Protestant Reformation. His 
appearance and bearing were well calculated to attract the 
attention and cause him to be remembered. He was of heavy 
build, wore a blouse and a cap stuck well back upon his head. 
This personage attracted further attention by constantly 
glancing about, as if fearful of being observed and followed. 

Just as the clock in the tower of the old university where 
Martin Luther held a professorship, struck nine, the myste¬ 
rious personage, unknown to the honest burghers, disappeared 
from view. 


INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 35 


Along the bank of the Elbe at Wittenberg there is an 
ancient dyke, and on the top of this he was seen walking alone 
an hour later. Presently he was joined by another stout 
man, attired much like himself, with whom he stood for some 
time engaged, apparently, in earnest conversation. At the 
expiration of something like half an hour, they were joined by 
a third party. The new-comer bore a marked contrast to his 
two companions. He was tall, his lank form being enveloped 
in a long dark cloak, and wore a high, pointed, broad-brimmed 
hat. People who were observing them judged from the fre¬ 
quency and vehemency of their gesticulations, that a confer¬ 
ence of decided importance was being carried on. The 
curiosity of several of the townspeople was not satisfied until 
they separated at midnight, each going in a different direction. 

The following morning the town fair opened, and all the 
hotels were busily preparing for the reception of expected 
guests. In a back room of one of the coffee-houses, three men 
were sitting talking earnestly together. Two of them were 
the mysterious individuals in blouses who had been seen 
together on the dyke the night before, their tall companion— 
still wearing his enormous cloak and pointed hat—standing 
outside the window, but near enough to hear whatever was 
said inside. Suddenly one of the men rose, walked to the 
casement, and then left the room, whereupon the tall stranger 
moved hastily away. Almost simultaneously a shot was 
heard in the apartment, and when the crowd of excited men 
rushed through the door they were horrified to find that one 
of the men had received a bullet wound through his body. 
His companion, too startled to speak, pointed to the open 
window. Thereupon some of the crowd hurried to the street, 
where they saw a tall man covered with a cloak walking 
rapidly away. He was followed and taken in charge by the 
police. Concealed under his waistcoat, hung through one of 
his braces, was found a pistol. It was Boon learned that he 
was a Tyrolesian huckster who peddled handkerchiefs, scarfs, 
table-cloths and other goods made from cotton and woolen 
fabrics. He loudly protested his innocence of any attempt 
upon the life of Gustav Grimm, which was the name of the 


36 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


murdered man, and invoked the entire calendar of blessed 
saints to witness that he had never even conceived of a deed 
so awful. As to the pistol which had been found upon him, 
he told that he had purchased it at the suggestion of one 
Gottlieb Rinhalter, to be used for the purpose of self-defense 
while traveling about the country. He had known the mur¬ 
dered man personally, and had transacted some business with 
him and Rinhalter, but had never had any misunderstanding of 
any sort with Grimm, nor was there any reason why he should 
desire his death. The pistol which was taken from him was 
found not to be loaded, and he said he never had it charged 
since it had been in his possession, a statement which the 
appearance of the weapon seemingly confirmed. 

The only witness to the shooting was a man well advanced 
in years, who gave the name of Gottlieb Rinhalter. The 
report shows that he wore a wooden leg, but, very possibly 
through an oversight, makes no mention of his having been 
engaged in reading the book which lay upon the table before 
him. Notwithstanding this variation, he was none other than 
the gray-haired disciple of Malthus. He was at once recog¬ 
nized, for his face and appearance were well known at fairs 
and markets, where he occasionally obtained employment as 
an accountant and a go-between in bargains. Besides these 
occupations, he sometimes acted as interpreter, being able to 
speak both French and German fluently. He said that some 
one had fired the fatal shot through the open window; who, he 
did not know. He was subjected to a rigid verbal examina¬ 
tion, and his person was searched but no weapon found upon 
him. Nevertheless, circumstances appeared to warrant 
detaining him in custody, although, so far as learned, there 
was no proof that he had been connected with the shooting, 
either as a principal or an accomplice. 

At this juncture of affairs, Mr. Stuart and his family 
arrived at Wittenberg, and the gentleman immediately applied 
for permission to see Rinhalter, whom he at once identified. 
This confirmed the suspicions of the police, who had been 
busily inventing all sorts of theories and making no end of 
investigations, but without success. Rinhalter was subjected 


INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 37 

to a further and more rigorous examination, but nothing 
positively incriminating was discovered. It is likely that he 
would have been ultimately released had it not been for the 
fact that Gustav Grimm did not die immediately. He lingered 
for several days, and just before his death rallied sufficiently 
to make an ante-mortem statement, and to identify his mur¬ 
derer. The story was strange in the extreme. Left alone 
with Gottlieb Rinhalter in the room, they sat beside each other 
with a chair between them. Soon after the departure of 
their companion, one Nicholas Holst, the cripple slowly raised 
his wooden leg, and laid it horizontally across the chair which 
stood between Grimm and himself. As his victim looked into 
the assassin’s face, he said he observed it was lit up by a 
strange smile. The next moment came a report and a bullet 
entered Grimm’s body. Then Gottlieb instantly lowered his 
wooden leg, but not before the wounded man had perceived a 
smoke curling from its stump. 

Rinhalter was now searched for the third time and the 
mystery clearly explained. His wooden leg contained a long 
pistol-barrel, and attached to it was a trigger that might be 
worked by means of a string which passed from it into his 
right-hand pocket. This contrivance had enabled him, as he 
afterwards coolly explained, to rest his combination false-leg 
and horse-pistol in a horizontal position and take deliberate 
and quite accurate aim, without attracting the slightest atten¬ 
tion. He could discharge the improvised weapon without 
taking his hand from his pocket, and had thus been able to 
maintain the secret of his masked battery. It seems almost 
impossible that he could have been several times searched 
without his clumsy contrivance being discovered, yet the fact 
is very clearly established. It furnishes rather a severe com¬ 
mentary on the efficiency of the French and German police in 
the early part of this century. And yet we must not be too 
severe upon foreign methods, since one noted American 
burglar carried a whole kit of tools concealed in his wooden 
leg, and is said to have escaped from prison by their use. 

The long list of murders and attempted murders which had 
been wrapped in most profound mystery was fully explained 


38 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


by this discovery. During the progress of his trial the story 
of his life was brought out, down to minute details. Many of 
the facts he supplied himself, and that with as much self- 
possession as if he had been recounting a career of usefulness 
and honor. He had been born at Tours, France, and his real 
name was Raoul Croc. His father had been a Frenchman and 
his mother a native of Germany. The former was a barber, 
and the latter a rope dancer; and he, himself, had early begun 
to lead a roving life. The amputation of his leg had been 
rendered necessary by the bite of a dog, and he had never 
received any pension from the government, nor had he ever 
been a soldier. 

At first the authorities were inclined to consider him insane, 
as no possible motive for his crimes could be conjectured. 
But they were not to remain long of this opinion. Once 
satisfied that his conviction and execution were certain, his 
reserved manner disappeared, and he talked freely, volubly 
even, and made clear the motive that had led him into a 
systematic course of crime. In doing this he betrayed not the 
slightest suggestion of remorse; on the contrary, his great 
regret was that -he had accomplished so little in the way of 
taking human life. He expressed sorrow, however, for the 
pain he had inflicted on those individuals that he had failed to 
kill outright, and for the grief of the relatives of those he had 
slain. His criminal career had begun shortly after he had 
come into possession of the great work of Malthus on “Over¬ 
population,” which had ever since been his bosom companion. 
“It showed me the true work of my life,” he declared. “It 
came upon me like the flash of a flint in the night, or as the 
light that dazzled Saul of Tarsus on the road to Damascus.” 
He styled himself, “The apostle of a great principle; the 
martyr of a practical philanthropy.” Vulgar minds, who 
judge everything from their own narrow, everyday standpoint, 
might denounce him and even call him mad, but, he assured 
the court, he was confident that the better intellects of 
France, Germany, and England would do ample justice to his 
memory. To all appearances he spoke candidly, and appeared 
to consider himself as a benefactor to mankind. 


INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 39 


As to his mysterious meeting with the murdered Grimm 
and the Tyrolesian huckster upon the dyke at Wittenberg, 
Croc offered no explanation; yet, in view of his previous crimes 
and the diabolical cunning of his character, the plot he had 
devised becomes apparent. The huckster, who dressed in an 
extravagant fashion, and was, no doubt, of an imaginative 
turn of mind, was made to believe that a person of his distin¬ 
guished appearance ran great risks in traveling about the 
country unarmed, and easily induced to purchase a pistol. 
He had probably made this person believe that Grimm was 
disposed to turn traitor to some scheme they had concocted on 
the dyke, and arranged to have him play the spy the follow¬ 
ing day, with the expectation that the tall huckster would be 
convicted and executed for the murder; thus cutting down the 
hated “over-population” by two, instead of one, as was his 
usual custom. 

The first victim to the cause of reducing the world’s popu¬ 
lation was an old soldier named Armande Geraud, who had lost 
a leg at Austerlitz and received a pension from Marshal Soult. 
Geraud had announced his intention of marrying, and this 
had decided Croc to take his life. While Geraud and he sat 
smoking together in a little garden, the deed had been com¬ 
mitted with a bludgeon. The assassin declared that at the 
time of the killing it had not occurred to him to impersonate 
his victim and draw the pension from Marshal Soult; but turn¬ 
ing the matter over in his mind and considering it in the light 
of a principle of action which he had determined to make the 
guiding rule of his life, he came, as he said, “to see the finger 
of Providence pointing for his good and that of mankind.” 
The idea seemed to him to be an inspiration, and he had 
subsequently passed as Armande Geraud, and had received his 
victim’s pension from the agent of Marshal Soult. From this 
hour he had striven to rectify the evils of over-population so 
clearly shown in the “divine book” which he carried at his 
breast, the beneficent production of the great Englishman, 
Mai thus. Once, indeed, he had suffered a qualm of doubt for 
several days, and passed many sleepless nights in consequence 
of some friend having sent him the roe of a herring wrapped 


40 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


in a multiplication table; but he soon came to perceive that 
the divinely inspired author of “Over-population” must, 
eventually, in the course of long ages, be right, and all the 
produce of the sea, as well as of the land, be eaten up by the 
over-populated world. Henceforth he went on his way rejoic¬ 
ing, ever mindful of his high mission, ever coming in with his 
population-check upon all good opportunities. 

He confessed that in the prosecution of his peculiar system 
of philanthropy he had directly killed twenty-seven indi¬ 
viduals, caused the execution of five others who had been 
found guilty of his murders, and wounded fourteen more, 
most of whom, much to his regret, had recovered. He had 
discharged a high duty, he maintained. He had chosen the 
name of “Gottlieb Rinhalter”—“Love God, The Checker,” to 
express a due sense of his high calling. Some of Croc’s ideas 
about men and society are worthy of mention. For Fieschi, 
and other regicides, he expressed supreme contempt. They 
were, he said, nothing better than ignorant egotists. He 
agreed with Malthus that vice and misery had been the great¬ 
est benefactors of the race; things which he thought had done 
more than any other agency in reducing the population. 
Next to those, he regarded Bonaparte and the Duke of 
Wellington as the most distinguished philanthropists of his¬ 
tory, because of their reducing the population, even though 
not upon any philosophic principle. Of Mr. Pitt, he spoke in 
terms of highest praise. He was a great man, a prime mover 
in the prevention of over-population. Next to the book of 
Malthus, Croc regarded the German work entitled “Documen¬ 
tary Exposition of Remarkable Crimes,” by Anselm Von 
Feurbach, Knight, State Councillor, and President of the 
Court of Appeals. Only authors of the keenest intellect, he 
thought, could do justice to the memory of great criminals. 
The mass of mankind do not regard them from a philosophic 
standpoint. Posterity would, he thought, recognize them as 
philanthropists. Simon Stigler, a murderer of the century 
preceding, he mentioned in terms of respect, although dis¬ 
criminating against what he conceived to have been certain 
weak points in his character. Margaret Swanziger, an expert 


INSTANCE OF HOMICIDAL IMPULSE 41 


poisoner through the use of oxalic acid mixed with negus and 
sugar of lead, he particularly admired. With the story of 
Solomon Scales, the wife murderer, he was thoroughly 
familiar. Jacob Solly, who had a habit of killing soldiers 
while standing solitary on sentry, and Thomas Pig of Hert¬ 
fordshire, who had with his own hands killed nine infants, he 
considered ideal heroes. He was familiar with the story of 
Nadir Slat, who had erected pyramids and columns out 
of human skulls, and he dwelt with peculiar interest on the 
principle involved in the eighty thousand executions of Henry 
VIII. 

These men, he said, were all great benefactors of the 
human race. They were superb apostles of the Malthusian 
doctrine, and they furnished the only effective checks and 
remedies that could be found. Regulation and colonization 
were mere temporizing. There was no remedy for it but to 
kill people. 

The day before he was to be executed Croc asked that a 
poor woman, a dressmaker who had befriended him, might be 
permitted to visit him in one of the apartments of the jail, 
and that he might be granted a short conversation in private. 
Strange to say, with the same inattentive ignorance which the 
police had manifested upon the occasion of his search made 
after the murder of Grimm, the permission was given. 
Shortly after her departure he became restless, but this cir¬ 
cumstance was attributed to the natural nervousness which 
might be expected in a man awaiting execution. In the even¬ 
ing the dressmaker returned, and once more the two were 
left alone together. During the night he expressed the wish 
that the Chief Magistrate of Wittenberg and the Head Pro¬ 
fessor of the University should breakfast with him in the 
morning. It is hardly necessary to say that the proffer was 
declined. 

While Croc was being bound to the fatal chair, his eyes 
nervously wandered about, until they rested upon the dress¬ 
maker, whom he particularly enjoined to be present in order 
that she might witness his death. With a complacent smile he 
placed his right leg across his left knee until it pointed, as 


42 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


nearly as he was able to aim, at the heart of the dressmaker. 
Just as the executioner arrived behind him with the two- 
edged sword, Croc closed his left eye and, giving a short jerk 
to his right elbow, fell backward. An explosion followed. 
Fortunately for herself, the dressmaker was uninjured. The 
pistol leg had been overcharged, and had burst and blown the 
body of the wretch into fragments. 

An explanation is almost unnecessary. Croc had induced 
the dressmaker to bring him half a pound of gunpowder, that 
he might be enabled to cheat the executioner by committing 
suicide. He had placed the entire contents of the package in 
the pistol barrel. Failing in his scheme to take the lives of 
the two prominent men, he had determined to murder his 
misguided benefactress, but succeeded only in terminating his 
own depraved existence. 

The story of Raoul Croc has been given in considerable de¬ 
tail because it furnishes an admirable instance of the operation 
of the disposition, or in this case, more properly, passion, for 
taking human life. It does not appear that the murderer was 
of a cruel or revengeful disposition, and all his manifold 
crimes must be chargeable to the homicidal impulse, which 
had gained absolute mastery over all the better promptings of 
his heart. For a long time he successfully resisted the 
temptation, but the work of Malthus presented a line of argu¬ 
ment that quieted, or rather subdued, whatever of real con¬ 
science he possessed, and enabled him, in a manner at least, to 
justify his dark and cruel deeds unto himself. Judging from 
the boastful manner of his confession and his death, coupled 
with the incessant study of his “bosom companion,” he 
probably believed the theories of Malthus and decided to carry 
them much farther than was contemplated by the clerical 
author. At the same time, the disposition to kill was the real 
incentive that drew, or drove, him into a course of crime 
almost unequaled in modern times. 


CHAPTER IV 


MOTIVES FOR HOMICIDE—REVENGE—NUMEROUS 

CASES 

It is not the author’s intention to present anything like a 
complete history of homicide; such a work would far transcend 
the limits he has set himself, and besides, would hardly prove 
of interest to the general reader. His object is, rather, to 
show the extent to which it has prevailed in different ages, 
how it has been regarded and treated by the law and by 
society, the efforts that have been made to repress it, the 
various motives that lead to its commission, with appropriate 
illustrations of each, and the modes of punishment adopted 
by various nations in different ages. 

Logically considered, such a book ought to begin with the 
earliest historical times and descend chronologically to the 
present day. Such an arrangement would, however, render it 
impossible to treat separately and distinctly the different pas¬ 
sions and impulses that have led to the commission of the 
great homicides of the world, and would render the work less 
interesting and instructive. In departing from the usual 
mode and treating the subject from the standpoint of motives 
rather than time, nothing is really lost, since, unlike the arts, 
sciences, letters, religion and civilization itself, even, homicide 
has been essentially the same in all ages, and is bound to con¬ 
tinue so, for the reason that once modified it ceases to be 
homicide. 

To set forth in a categorical way the different motives of 
the human heart, which, given free rein, drive one on to take 
the life of his fellow, is an extremely difficult task, for the 
reason that natural impulses are manifold and that many of 
them, commendable in themselves, become perverted and 
form combinations so various that their enumeration is impos- 

43 


44 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


sible. It must be remembered that good and evil are relative 
terms, and depend for their meaning upon the education and 
conscience of the individual who employs them. Probably 
no two philosophers ever exactly agreed as to the ultimate 
causes of crime, and the author does not essay to answer 
questions that have been mooted for all time. Besides, few 
homicides have resulted from the operation of one single and 
unaided passion or motive. There is usually a leading cause, 
but it is often mingled, frequently obscured, by others. 
Thus, in the mind of a murderer, many inducements, some 
of them perhaps excusable, are often strangely jumbled 
together and mixed up with dark and evil passions. 

Of the passions and motives that most frequently call into 
activity the homicidal impulse and lead to murder, the follow¬ 
ing may safely be enumerated: Revenge, Cupidity, Jealousy, 
Envy, Anger, Lust, Drunkenness and Fear. To these might 
be added Patriotism and the Obligation of a Secret Oath. 
Brief as is this list, it has amply sufficed to bring to an 
untimely end a large proportion of all born into the world, 
and to reflect suffering, shame and death upon an almost 
infinite number of others. As has been already suggested, 
none of these motives are new; all are as old as the existence 
of sinful man. Anger and envy caused Cain to slay his 
brother; lust induced David to put Uriah in the front rank of 
battle; revenge led Samson to drag down the pillars that 
crushed and buried his enemies and himself, while motives of 
mingled patriotism and fear induced the beautiful Judith to 
decapitate the wicked and drunken Holofernes. 

Of all the passions that control the actions of men, the 
love of self is clearly entitled to the foremost place. Of the 
criminal motives we have enumerated, all have their founda¬ 
tion in selfishness. The love of self is deeply implanted in 
every human breast, and egotism may be justly termed the 
ruling passion of life. So far from being wrong, self-love, 
within reasonable limits, is clearly right. It was divinely 
implanted in the original human heart for the very evident 
purpose of furnishing man with a motive for living in the face 
of sorrow and pain, and for subduing the earth in spite of 


MOTIVES FOR HOMICIDE-REVENGE 45 


droughts, floods, tornadoes and earthquakes. The love of 
self, in the true sense of the term, leads men upward to true 
nobility and causes them to eventually sacrifice self for the 
benefit of others. To explain this seeming paradox: a selfish 
man, in the conventional and mean sense of the word, passes 
a beggar with a frown and possibly a muttered curse, while 
one endowed with a true and genuine self-love pauses and 
divides his few coins with the mendicant. The first refuses 
his contribution because to part with his money would cause 
him pain, while the other drops a coin, often from pure phi¬ 
lanthropy, it is true, but more frequently for the reason that 
the memory of the wan face and hungry eyes of the supplicant 
would cost him greater suffering than the lack of the trifle he 
contributes. 

The motive for murder that seems to contain the least 
element of selfishness, is revenge. Primarily, a real or sup¬ 
posed personal injury lies at its foundation, yet the remote 
cause, with all others that intervene, is absorbed by the 
whirlwind of passion that results—as the serpent of Aaron 
swallowed up those of the Egyptian enchanters. In almost 
all other moving causes of crime the perpetrator expects to 
reap some kind of substantial benefit, as wealth or the gratifi¬ 
cation of his passions, but in revenge he only expects to profit 
through a fiendish delight in the death or discomfiture of his 
enemy. The desire for revenge, accompanied as it always is 
with indignation and anger, often overrides conscience and all 
notions of common prudence, and furnishes some sort of 
palliation for resulting crime. On the other hand, revenge is 
one of the most brutish of all human impulses, and no just 
reason can be urged for its indulgence. As a motive of homi¬ 
cide, revenge is exceedingly fruitful, and, even where it is not 
the leading impulse, enters into combinations with others, 
and can be detected in a large proportion of the most atrocious 
instances of homicide. 

Revenge has furnished the theme for almost no end of 
poems, dramas and novels, and much of decided value to the 
investigator of homicide can be gleaned from the works of 
master minds whose writings, even when not strictly founded 


46 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


on fact, are truthful, in that they epitomize the criminal 
experiences of generations of wrong-doers. Among the 
essayists and criminal writers of the first half of the present 
century, few have equaled and none have surpassed Thomas 
De Quincey. This is especially true of his analysis of human 
nature. Although he led a most uneventful life, and was of 
a retiring disposition, his great learning and logical mind 
enabled him to look into the very depths of the human heart 
and describe the processes that lead one into courses of 
crime. The details of homicide appear to have had for him a 
weird sort of fascination. No writer of modern times portrays 
murder in more vivid, yet truthful, colors. 

The history of Maximilian Wyndham, in his wonderful 
book, “The Avenger,” is an admirable instance of the opera¬ 
tion of revenge, long sustained, deliberately planned and 
artistically executed—for there is an art in crime, ghastly and 
repulsive, but none the less art, as De Quincey himself has 
amply demonstrated. The vengeance Wyndham wreaked, 
after long years of waiting, upon those who had cruelly 
wronged his family, suggests Byron’s bitter lines: 

‘ ‘ Time at last makes all things even; 

If we but await the hour, 

There never yet was human power 
That could evade, if unforgiven, 

The patient watch and vigil long 
Of him who treasures up a wrong.” 

The narrative of the remarkable and wholesale vengeance 
of Maximilian Wyndham is supposed to be told by a professor 
in a minor university in northeastern Germany, some twenty 
years after the occurrence of the last events in the series of 
fearful tragedies. In 1815, not long after the final defeat of 
the French at Waterloo, this professor received a letter from 
a Russian nobleman asking him to receive into his family as a 
student, a young gentleman who stood high in the favor of 
the Czar, and who was possessed of a large fortune. This 
young man, Maximilian Wyndham by name, was the son of a 
distinguished officer, by birth an Italian, but claiming descent 
from a noble English family. As a result of the revolution in 


MOTIVES FOR H O MICI D E—R E V E N G E 


47 


France, the elder Wyndham’s property, which was of vast 
extent, passed under French domination, and he entered the 
military service of that country. Earlier in life he had served 
with considerable distinction in the armies of several princes, 
and while holding a brigadier-general’s commission in the 
Austrian service, had met and married a beautiful and highly 
accomplished Jewish lady, who traced her descent to the 
Maccabees and to the royal houses of Judea. 

Wyndham, thanks to his wealth, secured the place of a 
commissary to the French forces in Italy. Through this posi¬ 
tion he succeeded in collecting several large claims due him 
from some of the Italian States, remitting the money to Eng¬ 
land for investment. This circumstance, becoming known to 
his brother officers, raised a violent prejudice against him, 
since it indicated his intention to retire, a little later, to that 
country which the French so cordially hated. In the mean¬ 
time, his beautiful wife had attracted the attention of several 
French officers, who had annoyed and positively insulted her 
with their attentions. Owing to his position, Wyndham was 
unable to properly resent and punish the indecent proposals 
of his superiors, who had now become his deadly enemies. 
Still, his eye and bearing was sufficient warning to hold them 
in check, which still further inflamed their hatred. Soon the 
army was ordered to Germany. Wyndham well knew that 
under the outrageous laws and usages that still prevailed in 
portions of that country, his enemies would be able to perse¬ 
cute him in a manner that would not be tolerated, either in 
France or Italy. Accordingly, he attempted to resign his posi¬ 
tion as commissary, but was unable to obtain the favor, and 
was obliged to depart with the army. He left his wife, his son 
Maximilian and his two daughters in Venice. Although the 
boy was but twelve years of age, his father, thanks to former 
services, had secured him an appointment in the imperial 
service of Austria, with a high commission for one of his 
extreme youth. Upon his father’s departure from Italy, 
Maximilian had necessarily been recalled to remain with his 
mother and sisters. 

In a university town of Germany, Wyndham was caught in 


4 8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


a snare that his enemies had artfully laid for him. This was 
some breach of discipline, which, though really trivial, was 
fearfully punished. He was thrown into prison, where he 
was most inhumanly treated by the local jailer. The charges 
were so magnified that it appeared very possible the penalty 
might be death. In despair he begged, as a favor, that his 
enemies would send for his wife and children. This was 
exactly what they most desired, and the request was readily 
granted. Arriving, they found themselves classed as Jews, 
then generally despised and hated in Germany, and were 
treated in the most arbitrary manner. They found the object 
of their solicitude almost at the point of death, so inhumanly 
had he been treated. Soon after their arrival he expired. 
The opportunity of the French officers had now come, and 
they took a fearful revenge upon the woman who had spurned 
their dishonorable advances. 

Driven to desperation, Mrs. Wyndham, publicly and in 
court, denounced the corrupt magistracy, taxing some of them 
with having made her the vilest proposals. She told them 
that they had been responsible for her husband’s death and 
charged them with being in collusion with the French mili¬ 
tary oppressors of the district. For this she was arrested, 
charged with some form of petty treason, and sentenced to be 
flogged upon her bare back through the streets at noon. 
This punishment was to be inflicted on two separate days, 
professedly to relieve her torture, but really to add to her 
degradation. In three days this dreadful sentence was to be 
carried into effect. 

Maximilian spent the time endeavoring to secure his 
mother’s pardon, offering to undergo the punishment ten times 
in her stead, but all to no purpose. As a result of the fearful 
scourging and the shame that accompanied it, the unfortunate 
lady soon died. On the heels of this Maximilian was ordered 
to repair to Vienna. This had been done through a friendly 
French officer who reported the affair to an Austrian officer. 
Unfortunately, the order did not include his two sisters, whom 
he was obliged to leave behind him in charge of a faithful 
servant. It was seven months before he received a leave of 


MOTIVES FOR HOMICIDE-REVENGE 49 

absence permitting- him to return. He found his two sisters 
and the servant all dead. The eldest of the two girls had 
attracted the eye of the infamous jailer whose inhuman treat¬ 
ment had deprived her father of his life, and she had died in 
this villain’s custody—what more horrible can be imagined!— 
while grief had cause her younger sister to soon follow her to 
a better world. 

The day his mother was flogged through the streets, Maxi¬ 
milian, as appears from a paper written by him, but not 
opened until after his death, had sworn a fearful vengeance 
against all who had a hand in her degrading punishment. 
These vows he repeated after learning of the sad fate of his 
sisters, and consecrated his life to revenge. 

This was the young man who became an inmate of the 
German professor’s home, and it was in this university town 
that all the members of his family had perished the most 
miserable of deaths. The reader need not be informed that 
his real mission was revenge, rather than the pursuit of 
knowledge. In the ten years that had elapsed since the death 
of his parents and sisters, he had seen much of military serv¬ 
ice, and had risen to considerable distinction. He had some 
time before transferred his services to Russia. Arriving at 
the university, young Wyndham was warmly welcomed; he 
had paid liberally in advance for all favors he was to receive, 
and wealth and generosity open almost all earthly doors. 
Besides, he was strikingly handsome, and rose at once to a 
high position in the society of the quaint old town. 

Maximilian well knew every one who had had aught to do 
with the persecution of his mother, and he had marked them 
all, including their families, for death. About two months 
after his arrival the first blow was struck; a man named 
Weishaupt, his wife and his two maiden sisters, together with 
a domestic, were found brutally murdered. This occurrence 
threw the town into a perfect fever of excitement. All sorts 
of investigations were made, which developed nothing, except 
that robbery had not been the motive for the crime. Three 
weeks later another blow was struck, an entire family being 
murdered in their own house. 


50 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Young- Wyndham now suggested the organization of a 
band of students to act as a street patrol to protect the town 
at night, and he became an active member himself. But still 
the murders went on, the authorities being unable to obtain 
the smallest clue to the identity of the perpetrators. As a 
matter of fact they were the work of a band that the young 
student had organized for that very purpose. In the midst 
of horrid wars, Maximilian had been obliged to postpone his 
deeply-cherished revenge, but at length he developed a plan 
and found the means of carrying it into effect. He says in the 
statement already referred to: “A voice ascended tome day 
and night, from the graves of my father and mother, calling 
for vengeance before it should be too late. I took my meas¬ 
ures thus: Many Jews were present at Waterloo. From 
amongst these, all irritated against Napoleon for the expecta¬ 
tions he had raised, only to disappoint by his great assembly 
of Jews at Paris, I selected eight, whom I knew familiarly as 
men hardened by military experience against the movements 
of pity. With these as my beagles, I hunted for some time in 
your forest before opening my regular campaign; and I am 
surprised that- you did not hear of the death which met the 
executioner—him I mean who dared lift his hand against my 
mother. This man I met by accident in the forest; and I 
slew him. I talked with the wretch, as a stranger at first, 
upon the memorable case of the Jewish lady. Had he 
repented, had he expressed compunction, I might have 
relented. But far otherwise; the dog, not dreaming to whom 
he spoke, exulted; he—but why repeat the villain’s words? I 
cut him to pieces. Next, I did this: My agents I caused to 
matriculate separately at the college. They assumed the col¬ 
lege dress. And now mark the solution of that mystery 
which caused such perplexity. Simply as students we all had 
an unsuspected admission at any house. Just then there was 
a common practice, as you will remember, amongst the 
younger students, of going out a-masking—that is, of entering 
houses in the academic dress, and with the face masked. This 
practice subsisted even during the most intense alarm from the 
murderers; for the dress of the students was supposed to 


MOTIVES FOR H O M ICI D E—R E V E N G E 51 


bring protection along with it. But, even after suspicion had 
connected itself with this dress, it was sufficient that I should 
appear unmasked at the head of the maskers to insure them a 
friendly reception. Hence the facility with which death was 
inflicted, and that unaccountable absence of alarms at the 
time the crimes were committed. I took hold of my victim, 
and he looked at me with smiling security. Our weapons 
were hid under our academic robes; and even when we 
drew them out, and at the moment of applying them to the 
throat, they still supposed our gestures to be part of the 
pantomime we were performing. Did I relish this abuse of 
personal confidence in myself? No—I loathed it, and I 
grieved for its necessity; but my mother, a phantom not seen 
with bodily eyes, but ever present to my mind, continually 
ascended before me; and. still I shouted aloud to my 
astounded victim, ‘This comes from the Jewess! Hound of 
hounds! Do you remember the Jewess whom you dishonored, 
and the oaths which you broke in order that you might dis¬ 
honor her, and the righteous law which you violated, and the 
cry of anguish from her son which you scoffed at?’ Who I 
was, what I avenged, and whom, I made every man aware, 
and every woman, before I punished them. The details of 
the cases I need not repeat. One or two I was obliged, at the 
beginning, to commit to my Jews. The suspicion was thus, 
from the first, turned aside by the notoriety of my presence 
elsewhere; but I took care that none suffered who had not 
either been upon the guilty list of magistrates who condemned 
the mother, or of those who turned away with mockery from 
the supplication of the son. 

The jailer received the worst fate of all. He had been 
made a police officer since the death of the Wyndhams, and 
disappeared suddenly during the summer of 1816, nor could 
any trace of him be found. In November of that year, the 
leaves having fallen in the forest, his body was found nailed 
to a tree, which bore this savage inscription: “T. H., jailer at 
_• crucified July 1, 1816.” Touching this matter, Maxi¬ 
milian wrote as follows: “As to the jailer, he was met by a 
party of us. Not suspecting that any of us could be connected 



52 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


with the family, he was led to talk of the most hideous details 
with regard to my poor Berenice. The child had not, as had 
been insinuated, aided her own degradation, but had nobly 
sustained the dignity of her sex and her family. Such 
advantages as the monster pretended to have gained over her 
—sick, desolate, and latterly delirious—were, by his own con¬ 
fession, not obtained without violence. This was too much. 
Forty thousand lives, had he possessed them, could not have 
gratified my thirst for revenge. Yet, had be but shown 
courage, he should have died the death of a soldier. But the 
wretch showed cowardice the most abject, and—but you know 
his fate. ” 

A cloud, which, though silver-lined, threatened to obscure 
the fiery hate of the young officer and cause him to abandon his 
deep-laid plan for revenge, rose athwart his path. There is 
an old proverb to the effect that the unexpected generally 
happens. Probably no one could have convinced Maximilian, 
in advance of the event, that he was destined to fall in love— 
yet such was the result of his becoming domiciled at the uni¬ 
versity. More than that, he fell violently in love with the 
granddaughter of one of the magistrates, towards whom he 
entertained the deepest animosity. His affection was 
returned, and he became a suitor for her hand. The grand¬ 
father violently opposed the union, but the young man per¬ 
sisted in his suit. After some months the old gentleman 
suddenly changed his ground, and evinced willingness, anxiety 
even, that the couple should be speedily married, a proceed¬ 
ing that caused no end of speculation among the worthy 
gossips of the town. In the meantime the couple had been 
secretly, though legally, married, of which occurrence the 
grandfather did not entertain the slightest suspicion. 

And now a condition arose that fairly wrung the heart of 
the Avenger. His wife’s grandfather had been marked for 
slaughter. Maximilian attempted to defeat this end, but one 
of the band of assassins to whom circumstances had given 
momentary power, and whose heart was bitter against the old 
man, insisted that the programme be carried out to its legiti¬ 
mate denouement—the death of the last remaining offender. 


MOTIVES FOR HOMICIDE—REVENGE 53 


Wyndham yielded, but stipulated that the murder should be 
committed at a time when the young lady was expected to be 
absent on a visit. Again the unexpected happened; some¬ 
thing prevented the anticipated visit, and she descended the 
stairs just in time to see her husband in the act of seizing her 
grandfather. The result was absolutely appalling; the old 
man was slain, and the young wife, who was in a delicate 
condition, died as a result of the fearful shock. Maximilian’s 
object in contracting a secret marriage was to humiliate the 
grandfather. Of this he wrote: “Let me add, that the sole 
purpose of ( my clandestine marriage was to sting her grand¬ 
father’s mind with the belief that his family had been dis¬ 
honored, even as he had dishonored mine. He learned, as I 
took care he should, that his granddaughter carried about with 
her the promises of a mother, and did not know that she had 
the sanction of a wife. This discovery made him, in one day, 
become eager for the marriage he had previously opposed; 
and this discovery also embittered the misery of his death.’’ 

Even now the police did not discover the perpetrators of the 
numerous crimes. The secret was revealed by the Avenger 
himself. After the funeral of his wife he entrusted his 
friend, the professor, with two sealed documents; one his 
will, the other his dying statement, the latter of which was 
not to be made public for at least three years. This done, he 
died from the effects of self-administered poison. 

To understand something of the mental condition of 
Wyndham and appreciate the provocation that urged him on 
to his deep revenge, even at the expense of his own life and 
that of one to whom he was absolutely devoted, and also to 
show that hate is a stronger passion than love, one more pas¬ 
sage from his remarkable confession maybe quoted. It refers 
to his mother’s scourging and his own vow of vengeance: 
“The day came; I saw my mother half undressed by the 
base officials; I heard the prison gates expand; I heard the 
trumpets of the magistracy sound. She had warned me what 
to do; I had warned myself. Would I sacrifice a retribution 
sacred and comprehensive for the momentary triumph over an 
individual? If not, let me forbear to look out of doors; for I 


54 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


felt that in the self-same moment in which I saw the dog of an 
executioner raise his accursed hand against my mother swifter 
than lightning would my dagger search his heart. When I 
heard the roar of the cruel mob, I paused—endured—forbore. 
I stole out by by-lanes of the city, from my poor exhausted 
sisters, whom I left sleeping in each other’s innocent arms, 
into the forest. There I listened to the shouting populace; 
there even I fancied I could trace my poor mother’s route by 
the course of the triumphant cries. There, even then, even 
then, I made—O, silent forest! thou heardst me when I made 
—a vow that I have kept too faithfully. Mother, thou art 
avenged; sleep, daughter of Jerusalem! for at length the 
oppressor sleeps with thee. And thy poor son has paid, in 
discharge of his vow, the forfeit of his own happiness, of a 
paradise opening upon earth, of a heart as innocent as thine, 
and a face as fair.” 

In this narrative the homicidal impulse is seemingly pres¬ 
ent, although the moving cause was revenge. To a certain 
extent, also, the secret and solemn oath of Wyndham must be 
reckoned as having had its influence. It was uttered at a 
moment when he was suffering tortures from the terrible 
indignities to which his mother was being subjected, and 
would be certain to make upon the young man an impression 
so profound as to be quite as enduring as the memory of the 
original wrong. Thus, the solemn obligations of religion 
itself were made to fortify the decidedly wicked passion of 
revenge. 

In reading this wonderful work of De Quincey, the sym¬ 
pathy of many readers is constantly with the deeply wronged, 
misguided young man. This does not indicate any sympathy 
with homicide, but rather a deep detestation of the cruel and 
unwarrantable acts of those who were made to suffer in turn. 
This feeling of sympathy is a form, greatly modified it is 
true, but still a manifestation of the passion we term revenge. 
The outrageous treatment of Maximilian’s mother arouses 
within us a feeling of deep indignation; in a certain sense we 
make the cause of the young man our own, and ardently desire 
to see his enemies punished. This sympathy, not with crime, 


MOTIVE S FOR H O M ICI D E—R E V E N G E 55 


but with retribution, has been universally recognized by the 
authors of all ages, from Chaucer to Dickens, who have, 
almost invariably, provided a denouement in which vice and 
crime meet with adequate punishment. If it were possible to 
carry this principle into actual life, crime would rapidly 
diminish. As it is, the feeling of sympathy we have noted 
shows a general detestation of crime that augurs well for the 
future. That this sentiment has developed in modern times 
is evident from a close scrutiny of the literature of the world. 
In the wonderful poems ascribed to blind Homer, tragic acts 
abound, but they are treated without reference to their moral 
aspects, those that we would now term vicious not being dis¬ 
tinguished from others that rightly appeal to human sym¬ 
pathy. The popular fiction of two or three centuries ago did 
not, in this respect, rise to the high standard of that of the 
present day, as witness the works of Fielding and Smollett. 
Even Shakespeare did not always punish the wrong-doings of 
his characters. 

From the professional standpoint of the author one point 
in the story of Maximilian Wyndham seems worthy of special 
mention: The denouement that cost the Avenger his wife and 
drove him to confession and suicide, might well have been 
avoided had he not been present at the last of the series of 
murders. In working out the plot as he did, De Quincey 
showed consummate skill and an intimate acquaintance with 
human nature. Those who have spent years in the systematic 
study of crime and the detection and conviction of criminals, 
well understand that continued immunity from arrest renders 
law-breakers careless, often reckless, and, through a sense of 
fancied security, leads them to commit acts and a4opt methods 
that assure their ultimate detection and punishment. 

One of the most noted of all the homicides of history was' 
the killing of Francesco Cenci, a wealthy Roman nobleman, 
by the contrivance of his wife and children. Although this 
tragedy occurred at the close of the sixteenth century, it is 
exceedingly difficult to write an account of it that can be 
vouched for as absolutely reliable. Shelley made it the sub¬ 
ject of a very powerful play, full of romantic incidents, and 


56 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


this has had a large influence in forming the modern theory 
of the murder. 

Francesco Cenci was the son of Christopher Cenci, born 
out of wedlock, but legitimatized under the Roman law by 
the subsequent marriage of his parents. He was born during 
the pontificate of Clement VI. From his childhood he was 
brutal and vicious, having, when but eleven years old, in 
company with his tutor, been arrested by the Roman police 
for assaulting and robbing a prelate, to extricate him from 
which difficulty his father was obliged to pay handsomely. 
As he grew to manhood, his passions, never curbed, grew 
more violent; hatred and lust ruled supreme in his soul, and 
he hesitated at nothing which might gratify these dominating 
influences. He was twice married, three children being the 
issue of the first union, while his second wife, a widow named 
Lucretia, brought him no offspring. He was cordially 
detested, alike by his children, and their stepmother. 

Beatrice Cenci, his only daughter, is said to have been one 
of the handsomest women in Italy; indeed, she is still known 
as the “Beautiful Parricide.” Her beauty seems to have 
excited unnatural passions in the breast of her depraved 
father, who is said to have accomplished her ruin. Besides 
this, he is accused of having hired assassins to kill his two 
sons. Beatrice appealed to her friends and likewise to the 
Pope, Clement VII., for protection and redress, but failed to 
receive it. Despairing of aid and constantly persecuted by 
her most unnatural father, she seems to have conspired with 
her stepmother and her brother Giacomo to put him to 
death. One account makes the three the executors of their 
own terrible sentence of death. Another version of the 
tragedy informs us that the conspirators hired two assassins, 
one of whom was the steward of Francesco Cenci, to put him 
to death. The assassination took place in the castle upon one 
of his Neapolitan estates, where he was accustomed to spend a 
portion of each year. The method adopted was at once 
unique and horrible. One of the murderers held a sharpened 
nail above one of the eyes of the nobleman as he lay sound 
asleep, while the other drove it into his brain with a blow from 


MOTIVES FOR HOMICIDE-REVENGE 57 


a hammer. This done, the body was thrown from a window 
into the branches of a tree, the intention being to make it 
appear that he had fallen from the window and received his 
death-wound upon one of the many sharp points with which 
the tree abounded. This part of the plot miscarried; the body 
fell to the ground, and the murderers fled for their lives. A 
reward being placed upon their heads by the government of 
Naples, one of them was killed, while the other, being cap¬ 
tured, made a full confession. The Cenci family were 
arrested, and Giacomo and Beatrice were put to the torture. 
Giacomo confessed, but Beatrice persisted in her innocence. 
They were all convicted and executed in August, 1599. 

Historians are not wanting, however, who allege that 
Beatrice was entirely innocent of all complicity in the affair, 
but was the victim of an infernal plot. The result of the 
labors of the most recent investigator of this dark and myste¬ 
rious crime, Bertolotti, are far from supporting this theory. 
Drawing his information largely from original documents, he 
says that Beatrice, at the time she murdered her father—for 
he concluded that she was the direct cause of his death— 
instead of being only sixteen years of age, as has long been 
asserted, was really twenty-one, and possessed of a somewhat 
tarnished reputation. More than that, he asserts that she was 
far from beautiful, and that the sweet and mournful counte¬ 
nance which forms one of the chief treasures of the Barberina 
Palace in Rome, copies of which are to be seen all over the 
world, is not the portrait of Beatrice, and, moreover, was not 
even painted by Guido, to whom it has long been unhesi¬ 
tatingly attributed. 

Fiction generally proves more powerful than history, and, 
even if Bertolotti is right in his conclusions, the character of 
the “Beautiful Parricide,” as drawn by Shelley and other 
romantic authors, will doubtless continue to be adopted as 
correct. Whatever the exact facts were, it is evident that the 
morals of Italy three hundred years ago were exceedingly 
debased, and that most encouraging advancement has been 
made since those evil times. 

An instance of homicide of peculiar atrocity, from the 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


58 

motive of revenge, occurred at Hoddesden, England, early in 
the present century. The perpetrator of the outrageous crimes 
—for his thirst for vengeance was not satisfied with one victim 
—was Thomas Simmons, a servant. He was the son of poor 
parents, and at an early age had been taken into the employ¬ 
ment of a Mr. Boreham, of that place. He remained with this 
gentleman for a number of years, but at the age of nineteen 
was discharged on account of his brutal disposition, of which 
he had given a number of exhibitions. There was in the 
house a servant named Elizabeth Harris, a woman many years 
Simmons’ senior, with whom he appears to have fallen violently 
in love. He persisted in paying her his addresses after she, 
upon the advice of her mistress, had declined to have any¬ 
thing further to say to him 

Upon leaving his place, the villain vowed vengeance upon 
both mistress and maid, and, shortly afterward, on the 20th of 
October, 1807, he proceeded to carry his threats into execution. 
O11 that day there were present in the house Mr. and Mrs. 
Boreham, their four daughters, Elizabeth Harris and a Mrs. 
Hummerstone. Shortly after nine o’clock in the evening, the 
party in the parlor heard a loud altercation in the back part of 
the house, which proceeded from Simmons and Elizabeth 
Harris, the latter having refused him admission. The villain 
attempted to stab the woman by plunging a knife through the 
lattice window, but did not succeed in reaching her. Mrs. 
Hummerstone having in the meantime opened the rear door, 
the murderous wretch rushed in and stabbed her in the jugular 
vein, causing almost instant death. 

Instead of being satisfied, the revengeful rage of Simmons 
seems only to have been stimulated by his first deed of blood. 
Rushing into the parlor, he brandished his bloody knife and 
swore that he would have the lives of all of them. His next 
victim was Mrs. Warner, the eldest daughter of Mr. Boreham. 
Before she could rise from her chair, the wretch repeatedly 
stabbed her in the neck and breast, causing wounds from 
which she almost immediately died. The other daughters 
escaped by running upstairs. The scoundrel then aimed a 
fierce blow at the jugular vein of Mrs. Boreham, but only 


MOTIVES FOR H O M I CI D E—R E V E N G E 59 

inflicted a severe flesh wound, which did not prove mortal. 
After this he made a most desperate and determined effort to 
slay the servant, towards whom he seemed to bear the great¬ 
est animosity, but, after being badly wounded, she succeeded 
in gaining the street and giving the alarm. Several people 
responded to her affrighted cries. Some of them turned their 
attention to the wounded, while the others began a search for 
the murderer, who was thought to be still upon the premises. 
After a long search he was discovered in a corn-crib in the 
farm-yard, and was at once apprehended. His captors bound 
him so tightly to prevent all chance of his escaping that the 
thongs stopped the circulation of his blood. He was found 
in the morning in an almost dying condition, but was revived 
by restoratives. 

Mr. Boreham was a Quaker of such a pronounced type that 
he declined to prosecute the inhuman wretch who had mur¬ 
dered his daughter, Mrs. Warner. Simmons was tried at the 
Hertford Assizes on March 4, 1808, for the murder of Mrs. 
Hummerstone. Not only were the foregoing facts proved 
against him, but the murderer had confessed his crime to the 
coroner, declaring that it had been his intention to kill Mrs. 
Boreham, Mrs. Warner and Elizabeth Harris. Thomas Sim¬ 
mons was hanged on March 7, 1808, and died without mani¬ 
festing the slightest indication of concern or repentance. 

In this case the motive was clearly revenge. At the same 
time, the homicidal impulse was fully developed. There was 
not the slightest evidence of insanity, and we can hardly con¬ 
ceive of a mere boy of nineteen years planning and deliber¬ 
ately carrying into execution a wholesale series of murders, 
unless the desire to kill had been present in such force as to 
overcome all considerations of humanity and prudence. In 
Thomas Simmons, the passion to kill others was stronger than 
the love of his own life. 

The pages of criminal history are well filled with similar 
cases. What we term “love”—the highest and best impulse 
of the human heart—often appears to turn into its antithesis, 
as sweet wine becomes vinegar, and develops into the most 
cruel and relentless hatred, accompanied by a deep-seated 


6o 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


desire for revenge. It may be remarked that this does not 
occur in truly humane people, however grievous their wrongs. 
Simmons was of a brutal disposition, and gave free swing to 
low passions. In the author’s experience and observation, 
crimes of this class are always perpetrated by people pos¬ 
sessing depraved natures. 

Revenge is one of the deepest-seated of all human passions. 
In some people it seldom manifests itself, and when it does, 
passes away with the momentary cause that provoked it. In 
others, and perhaps a majority of mankind, grievances, real or 
imaginary, are treasured up, and the thought of vengeance 
constantly entertained. As a rule, however, revenge does 
not ordinarily take the form of murder. To deprive one of 
his life is, indeed, to exact the greatest possible punishment; 
but the revengeful heart desires to gloat over its victim, to 
note his sufferings and perhaps taunt and mock him. When 
death has stepped in, this is unattainable. Murders from the 
motive of revenge are very frequently to be ascribed to rage, 
which, though it generally subsides after a “cooling time” 
has intervened, is often revived by a word, a look, or some 
trivial circumstance, and becomes more uncontrollable than 
ever. 

Yet feelings of revenge are often long entertained, and 
prove, after the lapse of years, the moving cause of homicide. 
One of the most striking instances of this kind occurred over 
a hundred years ago, in England. It was a case of matricide, 
one of the most detestable and unnatural crimes of which the 
human mind can conceive. 

The details in this case are very meagre, as they rightly 
should be in so revolting a crime. William Farmery, a young 
man not yet of age, killed his mother by stabbing her in the 
throat with a knife. He was at once apprehended, and made 
full confession. He stated that his mother had punished him 
some three years before, and that he had then formed the deter¬ 
mination to take her life. On the occasion of the murder she 
had reproved him for some trifling matter, upon which he arose 
and left the house. Having deliberately sharpened his knife 
upon a whetstone, he re-entered the house and surprised his 


MOTIVES FOR H O M IC I D E—R E V E N G E 61 


mother in the act of making- his bed. Unmindful of the fact 
that she was his mother, who had always loved and cherished 
him, and was at that moment working for his comfort, he 
threw her down and took her life. He was executed August 
5, 1775, an d manifested neither repentance nor concern. 

A worse instance than this case can hardly be found in the 
annals of crime. It shows an utterly depraved heart, bereft of 
those natural impulses that control even dumb brutes: It 
likewise discloses a disposition to slay, for the motive was too 
trifling to have induced him to commit such a heinous offense 
without the murderous impulse being present in his heart. 
In the Latimer case, detailed in Chapter VI. of this volume, a 
young man murdered a woman whom he firmly believed to 
be his mother, but a stronger motive was present. He was in 
financial difficulty, and needed ready money to carry on his 
debauches. By killing his mother he expected to secure 
wealth. In the present instance, the motive of cupidity did 
not exist. Young Farmery killed his mother for revenge and 
to gratify the homicidal impulse, which evidently possessed 
him. 

A homicide surrounded with unusual circumstances, though 
clearly chargeable to the motive of revenge, occurred in 
Chicago, in the year 1869. The perpetrator of this most 
brutal and unprovoked crime was.one Daniel Walsh, the vic¬ 
tim being a very handsome girl named Rose Weldon. The 
facts in this interesting case, as given here, were recently 
obtained from Mr. Joseph H. Dixon, who at the time of the 
occurrence was chief of defectives of the city of Chicago. 

Walsh came to Chicago from Buffalo, N. Y., in 1861. Soon 
after he went south to St. Louis, and in 1864 enlisted in the 
army. He was in the battle of Wilson’s Creek, and was at 
the side of General Nathaniel Lyon when the latter was shot. 
At the close of the war Walsh returned to Chicago, and 
worked as a hack-driver and later as driver of a street-car. It 
was while in the latter employment that he first met Rose 
Weldon, whom he married and killed. 

Rose was well known for her beauty. She lived on the 
West Side, and after leaving school worked in a millinery 


6 2 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


store at 143 Lake Street. Her people were respectable and 
hard-working, and she contributed to the support of the 
family. The acquaintance between Walsh and the young girl 
soon developed to an intimacy. Walsh was a constant caller, 
and Rose regarded the good-looking young man’s attentions 
with favor. When marriage was suggested, however, it met 
with family opposition. Walsh was unknown, and there were 
suspicions as to his past. Opposition only threw a dash of 
romance into the courting, and the two were wedded at the 
Church of the Holy Family, February 6, 1869. After the 
ceremony the couple went to the bride’s home, and a few 
hours later the husband had deserted her without giving any 
cause. 

After a few days Rose returned to her work at the mil¬ 
linery store. She saw nothing of her husband, but learned 
through the Buffalo police that he had deserted a wife and 
child in that place. Thereupon she began a suit for divorce 
on the ground of desertion. When the decree was granted, 
Walsh’s employers heard of the matter, and he was dis¬ 
charged. 

Then came the murder. Walsh believed Rose was respon¬ 
sible for his discharge, and, according to the evidence of 
the trial, threatened revenge. The day before the shooting 
he bought a revolver. The next day he left his boarding 
house on 2 2d Street, and went to the millinery establishment 
where Rose worked. When she came out he stepped from an 
adjacent doorway. She started to run, but he followed and 
urged her to listen to him, as he wished a reconciliation. As 
she reached the door of her father’s house he drew his 
revolver and shot her in the side: As the girl fell her brother 
Dick rushed from the house and grappled with Walsh. He 
would have killed him if the latter had not offered to kill 
himself. Walsh begged for the revolver which had been 
wrenched from him, saying: “Don’t shoot me, Dick! Give 
me the gun and I’ll kill myself. ’’ But when he had gained his 
feet and been given the weapon he started on a run. He was 
caught by a policeman, who had been attracted by the shoot¬ 
ing, and was walked by the latter nearly a mile to the nearest 


MOTIVES FOR H O MIC I D E—R E V E N GE 63 


station. All the way an angry mob had to be held at bay by 
the officer. 

For ten days Rose Weldon lingered between life and 
death. During all this time her afflicted father was constantly 
by her side, and was not known to have either eaten or slept. 
He survived her but one hour, and they were buried together. 
Mrs. Weldon was prostrated with grief, and died of a broken 
heart five days before Walsh was taken to the penitentiary. 

The murderer was tried in November, 1869. A clear case 
was made by the prosecution and no defense was offered. 
Walsh was promptly found guilty and sentenced to be hanged 
December 10, 1869. 

If ever a man should have expiated his crimes upon the 
scaffold, that man was Daniel Walsh. He had won the affec¬ 
tions of a mere school-girl, married her while he had a lawful 
wife living, deserted her almost immediately after the mar¬ 
riage ceremony, and deliberately taken her life because she 
had obtained a divorce from him. The wrong-doing was all 
his own, yet, because the publicity given to the affair had cost 
him his situation, he was seized with a devilish desire for 
revenge which he lost no time in satisfying. Every com¬ 
munity abounds with sentimental people who would stand by 
and see a poor woman go to jail for stealing a loaf of bread for 
her starving children, and then exert themselves to the utmost 
to save from the justly-merited fate awarded by the law a self- 
confessed murderer. Exactly this thing happened in the 
present case. A number of the most prominent people of 
Chicago interested themselves in the cause of Walsh. Peti¬ 
tions asking for a reprieve were circulated and freely signed. 
The Governor refused to grant it; whereupon the man who 
had gone to the State Capitol to urge executive clemency sent 
the following dispatch to Chicago. “All right; I will return 
by next train. ’ ’ This was on the day fixed for the execution, 
and was taken to indicate that a reprieve had been granted. 
Extra newspapers announcing a reprieve were at once issued, 
and Walsh was jubilant. Hearing of this, the Governor tele¬ 
graphed a reprieve of four weeks. The efforts in behalf of 
the condemned man were at once redoubled. The Governor 


64 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


was besieged with petitions and delegations of sentimentalists, 
At the last moment the sentence was changed to imprison¬ 
ment for life, and the brutal wife-murderer escaped the fatal 
noose. He died recently in the penitentiary at Joliet, where 
he had been a prisoner for more than a quarter of a century. 


CHAPTER V 


CUPIDITY —LACENAIRE—THE “THREE ITALIANS” 

Of all the commandments in the Decalogue, “Thou shalt 
not steal,” is the one, probably, most frequently violated, and 
hence occupies a position of foremost importance. From the 
earliest and rudest times the right to possess and control prop¬ 
erty has been earnestly maintained. In the laws of all nations 
a man is justified in defending his property, even to the taking 
of human life. Indeed, property is often put above life. 
Shakespeare makes Shylock say: “You do take my life when 
you do take the means by which I live.” This almost uni¬ 
versal desire of possessing, or cupidity, lies at the root of a 
long category of crimes, beginning with trifling theft and 
ending with murder. And yet, the desire for wealth, when 
restricted to proper limits and softened and controlled by 
justice and humanity, so far from being culpable, is to be 
highly commended, for without it civilization would be an 
impossibility. The man who fashioned the first rude spear 
and fishing-hook considered them his own and fought as desper¬ 
ately for their possession as the modern banker would for his 
well-filled vaults. This deep-seated feeling or instinct has 
leveled forests, planted vineyards, multiplied flocks and herds, 
builded cities and ships, discovered new continents—in a word, 
subdued the earth. 

It appears that those qualities of human nature from which 
the most valuable results are obtained are the most subject to 
perversion and provide the most numerous instances of sin and 
crime. Acquisitiveness furnishes no exception to this rule, 
and its unchecked career, as already suggested, is almost cer¬ 
tain to culminate in the commission of crime. To reap where 
we have not sown and gather where we have not strewn; to 

65 


66 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


obtain more of this world’s goods than falls as the just portion 
of our own labor, presupposes that we benefit by the industry 
and thrift of others. From what is termed “shrewdness” in 
driving bargains to plain and simple theft, the transition is 
“as easy as lying.” Although a crime separate and distinct 
in itself, larceny can seldom be accomplished without involv¬ 
ing the perpetrator in other and frequently more heinous 
offenses. Of the multitude of cases of homicide in which the 
author has been employed, by far the great majority—nearly 
all of them, in fact—have had their origin in motives of 
cupidity. Footpads assault and kill a man; horse-thieves shoot 
down the pursuing owner; burglars chloroform to death the 
sleeping inmates of the house they design to plunder, or 
deliberately slay them if they chance to become aroused; 
coiners and “moonshiners” shoot the meddling officers of the 
law. In all of these cases, and in many others of a similar 
character, the motive is unlawful gain, and the more awful 
crime of murder is merely an adjunct to the lesser one of 
theft. While cupidity lies at the root of this class of crimes, it 
is often mingled with other motives. Since the days of 
Duval and Robin Hood, highwaymen have often chosen their 
victims with reference to the satisfaction of some ancient 
grudge; house-breakers frequently select the residence of an 
officer who has arrested them, or a judge who has pronounced 
upon them the sentence of the law. Even the homicidal 
impulse is sometimes called into play, and people put to death 
when their lives might have been spared without diminishing the 
amount of booty or imperiling the safety of the “operators.” 

These facts, well understood by all who have had any 
experience with criminals, or who possess even a slight 
acquaintance with their methods, demonstrate the awful risks 
incurred by one who enters upon the slightest course of wrong¬ 
doing, such as petty pilfering. While murder frequently 
results from sudden impulses, and does not always presuppose 
a long course of lesser crimes, it is, in the observation of the 
author, which is abundantly sustained by the criminal annals 
of the world, generally the result of a series of evil acts, 
gradually increasing in enormity until they culminate in the 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


67 


taking of human life. Without assuming the role of a moral¬ 
ist, the writer would emphasize the fact that bad always leads 
to worse, and that the most hardened wretch who ever paid 
the death-penalty on the scaffold was once an innocent, prat¬ 
tling child. 

The instances of homicide as resulting from cupidity fairly 
punctuate with dark and forbidding blots the pages of history. 
From the earliest times human life has been cheaply held. 
For ages bloody wars and private ventures in the domain of 
homicide retarded the world’s development. The actors in 
the awful tragedies knew nothing of the theories of Malthus, 
but they none the less successfully retarded the growth of the 
world’s population, and its civilization and enlightenment. 
Celebrated cases illustrating this motive of homicide are so 
numerous that only a small proportion of them can be given, 
but those presented will be chosen with a view of illustrating 
its various phases, and at the same time showing something 
of the different modes adopted by criminals to carry into 
execution their murderous plans and plots. 

Man is a social animal, and longs for the companionship of 
his fellows. Nor is this disposition confined to those who lead 
proper lives and consort with proper people. The worst of 
men yearn for fellowship, and are really unhappy when 
deprived of it. 

As good men form intimate friendships and pursue laudable 
ends in company, so the most depraved congregate together 
for the purpose of having some one to confide in, with whom 
past successes can be discussed and gloated over, and future ex¬ 
ploits planned; and likewise that they may the better carry their 
perfected schemes into execution. That some benefits accrue 
to scoundrels from this association, is undeniable, yet it gener¬ 
ally happens that, in the long run, it leads to their detection. 
There is some force in the old phrase, ‘‘honor among thieves,” 
but it falls far short of being universal. A thorough criminal, 
confronted with evidences of his guilt, will usually incriminate 
his accomplices, if by so doing he can save his own neck from 
the halter. Indeed, where he does not adopt this course, it is 
safe to say that he is guided by policy, not ‘‘honor.” 


68 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


In the year 1854 there lived in No. 271 in the Passage du 
Cheval, Rouge St. Martin, in the city of Paris, an impudent 
rascal named Chardon. He had, according to the records of 
the police, served a term in the prison at Poissy, from which 
reformatory institution he had but recently been discharged. 
He had been confined there for larceny, and, as is the 
almost universal practice of such characters, at once Resumed 
his criminal career. During his incarceration, as is common 
with rogues, he seems to have perfected a new scheme, for he 
proceeded to represent himself as a member of a society 
known as the “Charity of St. Cecilia.” In this guise, or, 
more properly, disguise, he went about the city selling devo¬ 
tional articles, such as rosaries, images, etc., made of cut 
glass, for which he was, on the plea of charity, enabled to 
obtain extravagant prices. His marked success so increased 
his self-importance and assurance that he had the audacity to 
petition Marie Amelie for a subscription to assist him in estab¬ 
lishing an almshouse. More than this, so successful was his 
imposture, and so persuasive his representations, that he suc¬ 
ceeded in securing from the queen a contribution of ten thou¬ 
sand francs and a promise of further assistance. Although 
Chardon was not one of the gregarious sort of thieves, but 
usually kept his own council, he had not been able to avoid all 
publicity in carrying through his negotiations with the Queen, 
and rumors of his newly acquired wealth were heard among 
the low resorts, where he was a familiar figure. 

On December 17th, of the year before mentioned, about 
midday, two men, one tall and strongly built, the other of 
small stature and possessed of a very pale face, mounted the 
stairs of the wretched building where the impostor’s apart¬ 
ments were located, and knocked upon the door. Receiving 
no answer, they began descending to the street, when, on the 
stairway, they met the rascal, who was without his coat, and 
had apparently been out on some trivial errand. Informed 
that the two men had called to see him on business, Chardon 
invited them to his rooms. No sooner had the door closed 
behind them than one of the visitors seized the astonished 
promoter of almshouses by the throat, while his companion 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


6 9 


produced a sharpened three-cornered file and stabbed the 
struggling wretch repeatedly, both in the back and breast. 
The impostor fell to the floor, probably dead, but to make cer¬ 
tain and at the same time secure his just share of the horrible 
“sport,” the shorter of the two assassins seized an ax, which 
happened to be at hand, and put the matter beyond all ques¬ 
tion. In the meantime—and here appears an advantage of 
hunting human life, after the manner of hounds, in pairs—in 
the meantime, the taller villain entered the adjoining apart¬ 
ment where the mother of the murdered man lay sick in bed. 
Again the improvised poniard was pressed into service, and 
the old woman was fatally stabbed. 

This bloody double murder accomplished, the two scoun¬ 
drels threw a mattress over the dead woman’s body and pro¬ 
ceeded to ransack the drawers of an old bureau that stood 
behind the bed. In them they discovered some silver dish 
covers, a large fur-lined cloak, a black silk cap and five hun¬ 
dred francs in gold. Hastily dividing the plunder, the two 
“friends in crime” hurried from the premises. On the 
staircase they met two persons who stopped them and inquired 
after Chardon. The taller of the two murderers replied that 
they too had been looking for him, but were told that he was 
absent from home. He then donned the black silk cap, while 
his companion enveloped his form in the stolen cloak, and the 
two lost no time in repairing to a notorious thieves’ resort, a 
cafe in the Boulevard du Temple. 

It may appear strange that such minute details can be 
given of this most sanguinary occurrence, but it must be 
remembered that the police methods of Paris were in that day 
far in advance of those pursued in the provinces. More than 
that, the examining magistrates of France, even at the present 
day, possess powers which they freely, not to say brutally, 
exercise, that are altogether unknown in America or England. 
Instead of being regarded as innocent until proven guilty, the 
accused is regarded as guilty until adjudged innocent, and is 
examined in a manner calculated to make him incriminate 
himself. Thanks to accurate police records he is confronted 
with his past life and so badgered that he often breaks down 


7o 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


upon his preliminary examination and confesses everything. 
If the first inquiry does not prove satisfactory, he is remanded 
to solitary confinement, often for many days, and is re-exam¬ 
ined as many times as may be deemed advisable. In this 
way, long after the occurrence, many of the gruesome details 
of this case were obtained. 

With the stolen money and the proceeds of the silver, the 
two thieves, for murder with them was but a necessary inci¬ 
dent of theft, proceeded to “make merry.” In the meantime 
they combined business with pleasure, and concocted a plan 
for further profitable villainy. They were “in funds” now 
and proposed to do something more “respectable” than vulgar 
house-breaking and ordinary murder. In accordance with 
their determination, they procured, the very next day, three 
small rooms on an upper floor of a large apartment house, 
or “hotel,” in the Rue Monteguil, where they represented 
themselves as law students. Their plan was to decoy 
bankers’ clerks to their rooms, under one pretense or 
another, where they were to be murdered and robbed. This 
was to be done at a time of day when the clerks were usually 
entrusted with considerable sums of money; so the scheme 
promised large returns. The plans of the wicked seem often 
to prosper in this world, but in this instance a temporary 
back-set was experienced. Immediately after their assump¬ 
tion of the dignity of law students, the shorter of the 
two assassins was arrested by the police on some trifling 
charge. 

His tall accomplice was not discouraged by this quite 
ordinary occurrence, neither does he seem to have grieved 
deeply for his imprisoned “friend,” for he lost no time in 
securing another partner in the yet untried business of 
murdering and robbing bank-clerks. He soon found a man 
in the person of a tailor, named Battou. He was a tailor 
in a little more than name, since he only used his trade, at 
which he seldom worked, as a cloak for his criminal practices. 
He principally devoted his time to thieving and serving at the 
Opera Comique as a supernumerary. Battou had taken but a 
few degrees in the great Parisian university of crime, and the 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


7i 


proposal to enter into a scheme involving robbery, with the 
awful accompaniment of murder, was quite appalling to him. 
This must not be ascribed to conscience—he seemed to have 
had little enough of that—but he lacked the requisite courage 
to become a participant in anything so hazardous. He proved 
none the less valuable, however, for he introduced the tall 
assassin to a man after his own heart. This was an old sol¬ 
dier, named Francois, who had served in the bloody wars in 
Northern Africa, and who announced himself as quite ready 
to kill a man for a consideration of twenty francs. The two 
congenial spirits were not long in reaching a mutual under¬ 
standing, and proceeded to at once put into execution the plan 
already formulated. 

A few days later, on December twenty-ninth, to be exact, 
the tall rascal sallied forth to start into motion the plot that 
was to terminate in robbery and murder. He repaired to the 
banking house of Messrs. Mallet & Co., where he presented a 
draft upon one Mahossier. He requested the firm to have his 
bill presented to the drawer for payment, and gave his resi¬ 
dence as being in the Rue Monteguil. It is almost unneces¬ 
sary to state that the number he gave corresponded with the 
one where the murderous den of the two assassins was 
located. The trap was now set, and the bait nicely adjusted. 
No detail had been omitted, even the name of the imaginary 
debtor, Mahossier, having been carefully chalked upon the 
door, and an arrangement made with the concierge of the 
building, by which any one inquiring for Mahossier should be 
directed to their apartments. 

Everything being now fully arranged, the tall man, who, 
like the wooden-legged Croc, whose career has been narrated 
in a preceding chapter, was of a literary turn of mind, com¬ 
placently lighted his pipe and proceeded to read, not the 
startling figures of Malthus, but a chapter from an almost 
equally dangerous author, Rosseau. The old African cam¬ 
paigner, who was educated in nothing except crime, and 
lacked the cultivated taste of his companion in crime, occupied 
himself in tugging at his dirty red beard. This must not be 
attributed to nervousness—Francois was no novice in the art 


72 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


of murder—but rather to impatience and a feeling that time, 
and hence money, was being lost. 

At length the sound of a footstep fell upon the strained hear¬ 
ing of the listening wretch, and he nudged his companion to 
arouse him from the entertaining work that was engrossing his 
every attention. A moment later came the knock at the door 
for which the two plotters had been waiting, and which promised 
to be to them the “open sesame” to fortune. It was about 
three o’clock in the afternoon when Francois opened the 
door, and, with as near an approach to a smile as his hard face 
could be brought to assume, admitted a young man who 
announced that he had called to collect a draft from M. 
Mahossier. Whether the tall man doubted the nerve or 
ability of his accomplice or was unwilling to permit him to cut 
a distinguished figure in their first business venture, he did 
not wait for him to carry out his allotted part, but varied the 
agreed programme by producing the sharpened file with which 
he had already dispatched at least two victims, and ran the 
point of the improvised but none the less deadly weapon, into 
the breast of the unsuspecting boy. In spite of the awful 
wound, the victim was able to utter vigorous screams. 
Instead of grasping him by the throat, Francois attempted to 
close his mouth with his hand. With a blow of his elbow 
the struggling clerk sent him staggering back and redoubled 
his outcries. Something of a panic now possessed the 
would-be assassins, who made ready to quit the apartment, 
but not until they had relieved the wounded messenger 
of the bag which contained his afternoon’s collections, 
amounting to twenty-four thousand francs in gold and bank¬ 
notes. 

As if to furnish a striking illustration of the real nature of 
the “honor” that exists among thieves, the old veteran of 
Africa, his only thought being for himself, ran from the 
room, leaving his accomplice locked in. Nothing daunted, 
the prisoner threw himself upon the door and soon succeeded 
in forcing the imperfect lock and making good his escape. 
Left to himself, the wounded boy attempted to descend the 
stairs, but, faint from the loss of blood, fell forward into the 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


73 


arms of the concierge, who had been attracted by the outcry 
and was in the act of ascending to ascertain its cause. 

The immediate future career of the two desperadoes was 
never made clear, but it was ascertained that they visited Issy 
in company, doubtless on some criminal errand. Some time 
after they reappeared in Paris, where, after committing some 
petty thefts, they seem to have parted company. 

Law-breakers cannot forever avoid detection and arrest, 
and Francois soon found himself within the strong state prison 
at Poissy, but not for the crime committed in the Rue 
Monteguil, with which the police had not connected him. 
Shortly after the ‘ ‘retirement” of the old soldier to a place 
where he received no half-pay, the tall assassin was arrested at 
Eeaure, where he had made an unsuccessful attempt to secure 
money by representing himself as a clerk of a noted Parisian 
house, giving the name of Jacob Levi. 

In the meantime, the police had not been idle, but their 
most assiduous efforts to identify and locate the murderers of 
the Chardons in the Cheval Rouge had been ineffectual. Not 
long after the incarceration of Francois at Poissy, a report 
reached the police that the convict had revealed the name of 
the murderer, and that, according to his statement, the 
assassin was a tall man named Lacenaire, who was well known 
to the police authorities of Paris. The latter was located with¬ 
out difficulty, and placed under arrest. 

Upon being informed of the treachery of his “friend,” he 
flew into a veritable transport of rage, swore that he would 
have revenge in kind, and offered to make a full confession. 
Closely questioned by the examining magistrate, the details of 
the two awful crimes were laid bare, and the short pale-faced 
man who had been his accomplice in the Chardon murder, 
and whose name was Aveil, was apprehended. The three 
prisoners were speedily tried for their terrible crimes. 

When the prison doors closed upon Lacenaire, he evidently 
realized that his infamous course was almost run. Bent upon 
enjoying to the utmost all that could be obtained from his few 
remaining days of life, he proceeded to pose as a philosopher 
and poet, writing verses and quoting from famous authors. 


74 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


In fact, he had already attained considerable notoriety as a 
writer of treasonable matters, and while he was in confine¬ 
ment three men were tried in Paris for publishing a volume of 
insurrectionary songs, a number of which were from the pen 
of the polished murderer. One day a favorite cat that he was 
allowed to keep in his cell offended him in some way, and, in 
a sudden burst of rage, he killed it. This done, he sat down 
and proceeded, for the entertainment of the guards and the 
gratification of his own inordinate vanity, to analyze the 
impulses and emotions that had led to the act. “Strange,” 
said this curious mixture of sentimentalist and monster, by 
way of conclusion, “that I regard the agony of that animal 
with a compassion I never felt for one of my human victims. 
The sight of a corpse, or a death agony, produced no effect 
upon me. I kill a man just as I drink a glass of water. ” 

In one respect, however, this strange monstrosity was 
entirely consistent. He had confessed his crime, knowing well 
that the capital penalty would attach to himself in consequence 
of his confession, and he was willing to surrender his own 
life in order that he might obtain revenge upon those who had 
betrayed him. During the whole period of his confinement he 
expressed, and doubtless felt, an earnest longing for the day 
of his trial to arrive, in order that he might have the satisfac¬ 
tion of witnessing the conviction and listening to the sentence 
pronounced upon his accomplice. His chief recreation while 
in his cell was in occupying himself as an author. 

A young advocate who had volunteered to defend him died 
suddenly while he was in prison. The last words of the law¬ 
yer were, “Alas, I shall reach there before him.” Lacenaire, 
on being told of this, remarked, with a real or assumed phi¬ 
losophy, “Eh, Bien, sooner or later it comes to that. No 
doubt he suffered much before he went. I shall suffer less; I 
know that well enough. ’ ’ 

Although Lacenaire was primarily induced to commit mur¬ 
der through motives of cupidity, there was in his depraved 
heart a strong impulse of revenge. His confessing bloody 
deeds that might have been proved with considerable diffi¬ 
culty, in order to condemn to the guillotine the man who had 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


75 


betrayed him, clearly demonstrated this. He chided the 
law’s delay, and, unmindful, or rather indifferent, that each 
day forced him nearer and nearer to the horrid scaffold with 
its gleaming-, death-dealing knife, eagerly counted the passing 
days that brought him nearer and nearer to his deeply cher¬ 
ished revenge. The time came at last, and on the 12th day of 
November the sensational trial began. 

Lacenaire wished to offer no defense, but an advocate was 
appointed for him by the Government. It is a somewhat 
singular fact that the more desperate the criminal on trial, 
and the more heartrending and gruesome the evidence to be 
offered, the more women—women of education and refine¬ 
ment, too—will crowd into a court-room. The crimes of the 
assassin had stirred Paris to its foundations; besides, all felt 
an interest in the monster who was willingly, gladly, going to 
the guillotine if only he could take his enemies with him, and 
a large number of ladies were present at the opening of the 
court. Lacenaire seemed to appreciate this, and to regard it 
as in the nature of an ovation. He was dressed with care and 
taste, and met each eager, curious look with a smile of mingled 
complacency and importance. His manners appeared so 
polished and his face so intelligent and refined, that the spec¬ 
tators could hardly believe him the monster he had been 
depicted. Francois and Aveil, who seemed vulgar brutes in 
comparison with him, sat sullen and despairing. Whenever 
the evidence told strongly against his accomplices, he looked 
at them with an expression of fiendish delight; at other times 
he read a book, glanced around the crowded court-room or 
conversed smilingly with his counsel. 

It was not found difficult to show the complicity of Francois 
and Aveil. One Frechard, an ex-convict of Poissy, testified 
that during his confinement he had once saved a turnkey from 
death at the hands of Aveil. After his discharge from the 
prison he had met Aveil in Paris, when the latter had told 
him of the plan to murder and rob the Chardons and invited 
him to join the “enterprise.” Battou, the pretended tailor, 
was also produced in court; he tremblingly admitted his guilty 
knowledge of the plot to murder bank-messengers, and also 


7 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


that he had introduced Francois to Lacenaire, as the best man 
in Paris for the proposed scheme. 

As to the murders in the Cheval Rouge, medical experts 
testified that the assassin must have wounded himself from the 
violence of the blows, from the circumstance that the handle 
of the file was covered with blood. This evidence would 
appear to us as rather far-fetched, yet Lacenaire readily 
admitted it, and, in reply to a denial from Aveil, exhibited a 
scar upon the palm of his right hand, and with a contemptuous 
smile, calmly resumed the reading of his book. 

In giving his testimony, Lacenaire thus explained his 
reasons for denouncing Aveil and Francois: “Vengeance is 
my only motive. Life I do not want. For a long time I 
have lived only in the past. For a long time, every night, 
death has been sitting on my bed. Those who think I would 
receive a commutation are mistaken. A pardon you cannot 
give me, no, I shall not ask it of you, it would be valueless to 
me.” When, calm and smiling, he reseated himself, many 
young lawyers crowded about him to congratulate him on his 
brilliant debut. “Ma foi,” he said; “life is a combat. I 
have played well, but I have been beaten. Society did 
not want me when I was good for something. Whose fault 
was that?” 

In his turn, Francois said to the jury: “You have heard 
that orator.” Then turning to Lacenaire, who was regard¬ 
ing him with a sardonic smile, he shouted: “Yes, miserable 
scoundrel! You, who would kill every human being; it is you 
who drive me to the scaffold. Hear, Lacenaire; I go to death! 
But I shall go without fear. I shall die innocent. But you, 
you will turn coward at the moment of death. ’ ’ 

“Better sooner than later,” was Lacenaire’s remark when 
he was awakened for the last time on earth, “to-morrow, if it 
is to be to-morrow; now if it is to be now. ’ ’ Then opening 
the manuscript volume of his memoirs which he had been 
preparing, he quietly wrote a final paragraph and committed it 
to his guard with the request that it should be given out at 
once for publication. This paragraph, written as it was by a 
man standing on the brink of eternity, whose eyes were 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


77 


already raised toward the fatal knife whose descent was to 
send him before his final judge, is worth repeating here. 

“Adieu,” he wrote, ‘to those who have loved me, and to 
those who have cursed me The latter are right. And you 
who read these memoirs, whose every page is steeped in 
blood, though you will not read them till the executioner has 
wiped my blood from his steel triangle, give me a place in 
your memory. Adieu!” 

The three miscreants were executed together. Contrary 
to the prediction of Francois, Lacenaire died without seeming 
fear, as he had lived without apparent conscience. In his 
case, the “machine” did not work properly, the grooves having 
become swollen from the dampness. Several times the horrid 
knife was released from its fastenings, but refused to fall far 
enough to accomplish its sanguinary task, and some minutes 
passed before his head finally dropped into the basket. What 
the mental sufferings of the wretch were during those dread¬ 
ful moments, none can even conjecture, but the people of 
Paris fairly gloated over the incident, and announced them¬ 
selves as satisfied with his punishment Sanson, who executed 
Lacenaire, denies this incident in his “Memoirs of the San- 
sons,” but the official report is against him. No man likes to 
admit that he has bungled in his work. 

To the average reader the character of Lacenaire is a 
strange mingling of contradictions. To conceive a man at 
once author and assassin, scholar and scoundrel, poet and 
murderer, is extremely difficult; yet such was the wretch, 
some of whose glaring crimes we have here outlined. The 
sympathy which he gave to cats he withheld from his own 
species. The coldness of his nature, which enabled him to 
perpetrate the basest of crimes without compunction, turned 
to fire when his own personal wrongs were to be avenged. 

If, however, we accept as true the theory that there is, 
dormant in most human breasts, but almost universally exist¬ 
ing, an impulse to slay, Lacenaire's character is not difficult to 
analyze. Possessed of a bright intellect and fruitful in 
resources, he could have robbed the Chardons and the bank 
messengers without staining his hands with blood. As a 


78 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


matter of fact, he had passed the point where the perpetration 
of an ordinary crime satisfied the evil promptings of his 
depraved and perverted heart. So the boy, whose tongue is 
bitten by the first glass of wine he drinks, if he follows the 
tempter long and faithfully enough will see the day when 
fiery alcohol will not assuage the fiendish thirst that rages 
within him Crime cannot be trifled with, or be made a play¬ 
thing. It must be absolutely eschewed. 

Let the reader, the young reader most especially, remem¬ 
ber that Lacenaire was once as innocent and light-hearted as 
himself. 

To further illustrate the little reliance that can be placed in 
the “honor” of thieves, and to show how far fellowship and 
friendship can be relied upon to protect one from the cupidity 
of the vicious and depraved, a recent Chicago case of homicide 
will be cited. The actors in this bloody drama, which 
attracted world-wide attention at the time of its enactment, 
were all Italians. For the better comprehension of the 
reader, the facts will be presented in a narrative form, and in 
the order in which they were discovered by the police. 

Although the crime was committed in Chicago, the first 
evidence of it was discovered in the city of Pittsburg. On the 
first day of May, 1885, the body of a man was found in a trunk 
at the Union Depot in that city. Before the trunk—which 
was a large one of the cheapest construction—was opened, it 
was noticed that one end was much heavier than the other. 
The body was doubled up, the lower limbs being tied together 
with a rope. The face was badly discolored, while a slender 
cord was wound about the neck and brought down to the 
wrists, around which it was firmly knotted. Their first awful 
shock of horror over, the employes who had forced open the 
trunk notified the police, who in turn telegraphed the partic¬ 
ulars to the authorities in Chicago, from which city the trunk 
appeared to have been checked. 

At almost the same moment the police of Chicago were 
placed in possession of a promising clue to the mystery. An 
Italian called at the police headquarters and reported that his 
brother, Filippo Caruso, a fruit-vender, was missing. He 


THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


79 


had left his home two days before, and had then upon his per¬ 
son some three hundred dollars in currency. Caruso had 
made diligent search for his brother in all sections of the city 
where he was known, but without obtaining the slightest 
information. The officers suggested that the body reported 
as found in Pittsburg might be that of his brother, but this 
the unhappy man refused to believe possible. 

The police at once took the case in hand. From the 
brother of the murdered man they learned that the latter, who 
was of a most amiable disposition, having saved considerable 
money from his business of fruit peddling, had remitted 
funds to Italy to bring over to America three of his boyhood 
friends. These three men were domiciled in Tilden Avenue, 
a small and, at that time, rather disreputable street, in the 
west division of the city,, only a few doors from the house 
where the Carusos lived. The early friendship existing 
between these four Italians appeared to have been intensified 
by the kindness and generosity of the missing man, who was a 
frequent visitor at their rooms. The three men were well 
acquainted with the financial condition of Filippo, and knew 
where he carried his money. 

The first move of the police was an effort to locate these 
men. It was quickly learned that the entire trio had disap¬ 
peared from Tilden Avenue about the time Caruso had been 
missed, and careful inquiry among their acquaintances failed 
to discover a trace of them In the meantime, the brother of 
Filippo had gone to Pittsburg to view the remains of the mur¬ 
dered man found at the Union Depot. He immediately and 
completely identified the body as that of his brother. The 
grief of the unhappy man was exaggerated by the circum¬ 
stance that he had intrusted his money to his brother, and was 
without the means to defray the expense of removing the 
remains to Chicago. 

The trunk had been checked from the Union Depot at 
Chicago, within two and one-half hours after Francesco 
Caruso had parted with his brother. The first step taken in 
the subsequent investigation looked toward the determination 
of the question, Who checked the trunk? The baggageman 


8o 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


who had attached the check was easily found, and he said that 
he would be able readily to identify the person to whom he 
had given the corresponding check. He was able to give a 
good description of the man, and Chief Doyle telegraphed to 
Inspector Byrnes of New York to look out for and arrest any 
Italian answering this description. It was not long before he 
was found and captured in a house on Wooster Street in that 
city, where he was temporarily stopping in company with a 
married Italian woman from Chicago. The husband and 
brother of this woman were taken into custody by the Chicago 
police, although there was little tangible evidence against them. 
The baggageman at the Union Depot, who had checked the 
trunk, was sent on to New York, where he fully identified the 
prisoner—whose name was Agostino Gelardi—as the indi¬ 
vidual who caused the trunk to be checked on the morning of 
Caruso’s murder. 

A young boy whose family lived in the same house with 
the three men suspected of the crime, stated that he had seen 
a man answering the description of Gelardi carrying a large 
trunk up the stairs the morning of the disappearance, and 
that he had also seen the same man, in company with another 
Italian, bringing it down, some forty minutes later, when it 
appeared to be much heavier. The fact was especially 
impressed upon his memory by the circumstance that he had 
followed the man upstairs, prompted by a boyish curiosity to 
learn what was to be done with the trunk. Gelardi, display¬ 
ing a large knife, had ordered him away under threat of kill¬ 
ing him if he remained. Further investigation resulted in 
finding the expressman who had hauled the trunk from a 
corner, some few blocks distant, to the Union Depot. Upon 
seeing it at the Central Station, he fully identified it as the one 
which he had carried in his wagon. 

The other two men who had lived in the room with Gelardi 
were subsequently captured in Chicago. They were all much 
terrified, and each began to implicate the others while 
attempting to exonerate himself. Finally, the whole story 
was disclosed. Knowing that Caruso was in the habit of 
carrying a considerable sum of money about him, they con- 



EXECUTION OF 


LACENAIRE.—PAGE 77. 


N 





















































THE “THREE ITALIANS” 


81 


ceived the idea of murdering him in order to obtain it. They 
resolved upon strangling him, and, in order to accomplish 
their purpose, devised a rather ingenious scheme. On the 
morning of April 30th, while Caruso was visiting them at 
their room, it was suggested that the four mutually shave each 
other. To this proposition their intended victim readily 
assented, and when it came his turn to occupy the extem¬ 
porized barber’s chair, one of the three villains hastily threw 
a rope around his neck and strangled him to death. The leg 
of his trousers, in which he carried his money, was then ripped 
open, and the plunder taken out and divided among the con¬ 
spirators. After the perpetration of the crime they separated 
and sought safety, one in flight, the others in concealment. 

“The three Italians,” as they were commonly spoken of at 
this time, Agostino Gelardi, Aguazio Silvestri and Giovanni 
Azari, were found guilty of murder on July 1, 1885, and later 
were executed together. The two other suspected Italians 
were tried with them and acquitted. 


CHAPTER VI 

CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE—SEVERAL CASES 

An almost unlimited number of cases could be cited to show 
the fallacy of the oft-quoted aphorism, “Murder will out.” 
Such cases work injury to society in many ways. In the 
first place, the cruel, revengeful or avaricious criminal goes 
unpunished, thus lessening the general respect for the law, 
and encouraging the perpetrator to indulge in similar crimes. 
Again, the public misses the salutary effects that would result 
from the detection and adequate punishment of the criminal, 
and others, who have entered courses of crime, but have 
hitherto halted this side the awful commandment, “Thou 
shalt not kill, ’ ’ remarking the good fortune of the undetected 
wretch, may be, and no doubt often are, tempted to “push 
beyond the mark, ’ ’ and write upon their faces the awful and 
ineffaceable mark of Cain. But a still greater evil remains in 
the wake of undetected murder. Although the perpetrator 
be never discovered, in the sense of being brought to 
justice, there are usually no end of theories advanced, involv¬ 
ing many persons, some of whom at least, in the nature of 
things, must be entirely innocent. Thus thousands of people 
annually pass under a cloud so dark and oppressive as to 
destroy their usefulness and embitter their lives, together 
with those of many others who are connected with them by 
blood and association. 

Innocent people are often suspected of crime, but when the 
mystery is cleared up, the dark veil lifts, and, so far from 
injuring them, excites the sympathy and often the aid of those 
who, otherwise, would have despised and denounced them. 
In the cases of murder that long baffle the skill of the detect¬ 
ive to unravel, the first solution is often entirely different 

82 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


33 


from any theory that has been advanced by the numerous 
“Hawkshaws” that exist in every community on earth. That 
erratic and gruesome, but at the same time highly imaginative 
and logical, genius, Edgar Allan Poe, to whom reference has 
already been made in these pages, tells a story of the unravel¬ 
ing of a murder mystery in which the denouement showed 
that no murder had been committed within the strict definition 
of the term. While possessing a basis of substantial facts, 
many of the details are doubtless pure inventions of the 
imaginative author. The writer thinks that he has demon¬ 
strated the propriety of using fictitious illustrations when they 
have been evolved in a mind stored with historical and other 
facts, and trained to the exercise of logical methods. It will 
be given here in brief outline; not only as showing how 
ordinary theories are often wide at sea in solving complicated 
riddles in crime, thus explaining in part, at least, why so 
many murders go undetected, but as showing something of 
the true method of ferreting out criminals and utilizing cir¬ 
cumstantial evidence. Poe published this gruesome case 
under the title, “The Murders in the Rue Morgue.’’ 

The crime whose history makes up the tale, occurred in the 
city of Paris, something like half a century ago. Two ladies, 
Mme. L’Espagne and her unmarried daughter, lived alone in 
a large house situated in one of the most densely populated 
portions of the great city. About two o’clock one morning, 
the entire neighborhood was aroused from slumber by a series 
of piercing shrieks, proceeding, apparently, from the L’Es¬ 
pagne house. But a few minutes elapsed before an excited 
throng gathered in the street. Receiving no response to loud 
knockings, the front door was broken open, and a number of 
men, some of them armed, rushed into the house. Finding 
the lower floor untenanted, they at once began ascending the 
stairs. While thus employed, those in advance distinctly 
heard two voices, seemingly engaged in angry altercation. 
No words were distinct enough to be understood, but the 
voices were quite marked and peculiar; one was coarse and 
bass, the other pitched in a high key. As to the fact that 
there were two people above, no doubt could be entertained. 


8 4 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


The band of investigators rushed on until the fourth and last 
floor of the house was gained. Here they found the door 
closed and securely locked on the inside. Without delay it 
was broken down, and, with becoming caution, the foremost 
men entered a large bed-chamber, usually occupied by the 
ladies, which was entirely untenanted. Evidences of a 
struggle were, however, everywhere apparent. The room 
was in the utmost disorder; the furniture was lying promiscu¬ 
ously about, an iron safe lay overturned upon the floor, while 
papers, clothing and various other articles were scattered 
about the floor. 

A closer examination of the premises disclosed upon the 
hearth a bloody razor and a large tuft of long grey hair, 
bedabbled with blood, while a quantity of soot directed the 
attention of the searchers to the chimney. An investigation 
showed that the flue was entirely closed with some unknown 
object, to remove which required the united strength of four 
strong men. To the horror of the spectators, it proved to be 
the dead body of Mile. L’Espagne, which had evidently been 
forced up the flue, feet foremost. A hurried examination of 
the corpse disclosed many severe contusions and abrasions, 
but these might have been administered in the process of 
concealing it from view in the chimney. The cause of death 
was, however, apparent. The unfortunate young lady had 
died from strangulation. Her eyeballs were fairly projecting 
from their sockets; her tongue was extended, and had been 
literally bitten through as though in the intense agony of an 
awful death-struggle, while upon her throat marks of fingers 
of unusual size and length, mutely though plainly, told the 
story of the hideous crime. 

No trace of the elder lady could be found in the house, but 
her body was soon after discovered in the garden, with the 
head almost severed; apparently the work of the bloody razor. 

Nothing of value seemed to have been taken, the ladies 
were without known enemies, and the completely baffled police 
speedily abandoned the case as not susceptible of solution. 
But as the author’s scheme included the unraveling of the 
strange mystery, he introduced a private individual, a prede- 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


85 


cessor of the Sherlock Holmes of current literature, in the 
realm of amateur detective work, who succeeded in working 
out the problem to the smallest fraction. Readers of Dr. 
Doyle’s books may, without being themselves largely gifted 
with detective ability, discover in the reasoning and methods 
of Poe’s amateur something similar to those employed by the 
later hero of “The Sign of the Four.” 

Poe’s “Vidocq” began by making a careful and minute 
examination of the premises. He satisfied himself that the 
first persons upon the scene had found the only door to the 
apartment locked on the inside, the chimney had been tightly 
closed by the dead body of the murdered young lady, hence 
the perpetrator of the crime must have made his exit by way 
of one of the windows. These he found closed both by nails 
and automatic springs. The nail in the window nearest the 
fireplace was much rusted, and the sash might well have been 
raised; indeed, appearances indicated that it had been. To 
leap from the window to a trellis adjoining, he judged a pos¬ 
sible though extremely hazardous undertaking. Not far from 
this window, however, was a lightning-rod which a trained 
athlete might have climbed. 

With all these facts in his possession, the investigator, after 
the method still employed in story books, retired to the 
seclusion of his own room and proceeded to reason out the 
solution. And here he exercised rare ability, and adopted 
methods of thought entirely reasonable and decidedly scien¬ 
tific. His system seems to have been the elimination of all 
theories impossible of accomplishment, thus reducing the 
problem to narrow limits. In the first place, no motive could 
be discerned for the fearful tragedy, yet, none the less, it had 
taken place. This pointed to an insane or irresponsible agent. 
To have carried the body of Mme. L’Espagne down the 
slender lightning-rod he decided to be something beyond the 
power of a man to accomplish—yet it had been found in the 
garden. The fact that the united strength of four men had 
been necessary to dislodge the body of the younger lady from 
the chimney flue proved quite conclusively that no two men 
could have placed it there. Again, the size and length of the 


86 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


marks upon the neck of the murdered young lady indicated a 
hand larger than that of a human being, as also did the 
strength that had been exerted in strangling her and in pluck¬ 
ing a large mass of hair from the head of her mother. Lastly, 
the overturning of a safe weighing several hundred pounds 
pointed in the same direction. 

It is impossible that a man, or even two men, could have 
accomplished these things, argued the investigator, yet they 
were done. The impossible having been eliminated, the only 
possible remaining explanation is that the deed was not per¬ 
petrated by a human being, hence it must be charged to some 
member of the ape family, many of which possess strength and 
agility far in excess of any man. When the amateur had 
reached this most logical conclusion, a greasy blue ribbon 
which he had found on the ground at the bottom of the 
lightning-rod, assumed an importance before unthought of. 
This ribbon was tied into a very curious knot, which, with the 
almost universal knowledge attributed to the hero of the 
modern novel we have referred to, Poe’s investigator at once 
knew to be peculiar to the Maltese and to sailors employed on 
vessels plying to and from Maltese points. He concluded that 
some sailor, familiar with Malta and its peculiar customs, had 
brought an ourang-outang to Paris, where it had escaped from 
its master, climbed the lightning-rod, murdered the two 
ladies, thrust the body of one up the chimney and carried the 
other down to the garden when leaving the premises. 

The affair being still a very recent occurrence, the investi¬ 
gator concluded that the sailor was probably still in the city. 
Accordingly, he inserted in the newspapers a skilfully worded 
advertisement asking the owner of an ourang-outang that had 
recently escaped from custody, to call upon him. The next 
day the Maltese sailor that the detective had pictured in his 
mind, and of whose existence he felt morally certain, pre¬ 
sented himself. He was evidently badly frightened, but, 
reassured by the advertiser, was readily induced to tell his 
story. 

The deduction of the amateur proved to have been sub¬ 
stantially correct; indeed, the only thing he had not been able 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


87 


to account for was the voices heard by the discoverers of the 
crime. The sailor had brought the animal with him to Paris, 
and on the night of the tragedy he had made his escape. The 
owner knew him to be of a most vicious disposition, and feared 
that he would kill some one; besides, he was of considerable 
value. Accordingly, he had started in hot pursuit. At length 
he saw the brute in the act of entering the window of the 
chamber, whither he had apparently returned after carrying 
down the body of Mine. L’Espagne. He had evidently leaped 
to the window-sill from the trellis. The owner resolved to 
follow the animal, but realized that it would be impossible for 
him to make such a leap. For a moment he was in despair, 
but, espying the lightning-rod, he brought into service his 
sailor-like accomplishment of climbing, and soon entered the 
chamber. A glance told him that an awful crime had been 
committed, although no human being was in sight. He at 
once attempted to capture the ourang-outang; but the beast, 
as if half conscious that he had done wrong and might well 
expect punishment, eluded him and ran from place to place, 
overturning the furniture and adding to the disorder already 
existing in the apartment. The sailor had repeatedly cried 
out in heavy and threatening tones, in the hope of subduing 
the animal, which had answered with gibberish in its peculiar 
shrill voice. Finally it gained the open window, and leaping 
upon the trellis, hastily made its escape. 

At this moment the sailor heard footsteps ascending the 
stairs, and, realizing that his position was a most compromis¬ 
ing one and that he might be unable to establish his inno¬ 
cence, he had quickly made his escape by the lightning-rod, 
closing the window as he left the room. 

In the “Sign of the Four,” to which reference has been 
made in this chapter, Dr. Doyle employs true detective 
methods. Without being in any just sense an imitation of the 
account we have outlined, it follows substantially the same 
general lines, and reaches positive conclusions by the very 
same mathematical rule of casting out, or rejecting, all 
theories that are clearly impossible. In this rather remarkable 
work, a murder had been committed in London by means of a 


88 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


poisoned thorn which was found imbedded in the dead man’s 
head. As in Poe’s tale, the door of the room where the crime 
was committed was found securely closed, while a rope sus¬ 
pended from the window-sill told how some person had escaped 
after the homicide. Sherlock Holmes, the investigator, dis¬ 
covered that the fatal thorn had been shot from a small 
opening in the ceiling. Entering a low attic, he found traces 
of the perpetrator in the mark of a naked foot in the dust. 
The footprint was very small, the toes being separated in a 
peculiar manner. This circumstance, coupled with the short¬ 
ness of the stride in walking, convinced Holmes that the 
murderer was a very small man, little more than a dwarf. 
With a universal knowledge, which, most unfortunately, no 
real detective on earth ever possessed, he immediately 
determined that the poisoned thorn was of a species indigenous 
to Blair’s Island, one of the Andaman Islands, and found 
nowhere else. The natives of the island the investigator knew 
to be dwarfs with spreading toes, who shot poisoned thorns 
from blow-guns. These deductions proved correct to the 
smallest detail. The motive was robbery, and the murder had 
not been a part of the plan, which had been concocted by an 
English convict who had escaped from an island criminal 
colony through the aid of the barefooted dwarf, who had 
accompanied him to England. This dwarf, as great a climber 
as Poe’s ourang-outang, had gained the roof of the house and 
entered the low attic through a trap-door. He had no instruc¬ 
tions to kill the occupant of the room, toward whom the con¬ 
vict bore no malice, but had yielded to his natural homicidal 
impulse. After doing this, he lowered a rope he had brought 
with him, by means of which his master climbed into the 
chamber. 

In his professional experience the author has encountered 
many murder mysteries in which clues were not more definite 
than in this case, where correct solutions were obtained. The 
“fine work’’ in this instance is more apparent than real. 
While the reasoning is logical and the conclusions entirely 
warranted, the remarkable part of the performance consists in 
the marvelous knowledge of the investigator, which never 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 89 

fails him, and which constitutes one of the chief fascinations of 
the work. 

In the Probst case, detailed in Chapter VIII. of this volume, 
a conviction founded entirely upon circumstantial evidence 
was secured, and its justice fully established by the confession 
of the condemned. Yet there was some force in the theory of 
the defense that Probst might possibly be innocent of the 
murders, though guilty of theft. As a matter of fact, many 
instances are on record where men convicted on circumstan¬ 
tial evidence have afterwards been proven innocent. An 
instance of this kind occurred in England in 1736. 

At that time, and for some years before, Jonathan Brad¬ 
ford kept a public inn in Oxfordshire, on the great road from 
London to Oxford. During that year, a gentleman named 
Hayes, who was traveling from London to Oxford, put up at 
Bradford’s Inn. At supper he was joined by two travelers, 
like himself strangers in the house. In conversation Mr. 
Hayes mentioned that he was carrying quite a large sum of 
money with him, in consequence of which he felt somewhat 
timid. Early in the evening all retired. The two gentlemen, 
who were traveling in company, occupied a double-bedded 
room near the apartment assigned to Mr. Hayes. Some hours 
after they had retired, one of the gentlemen was awakened by 
an unusual noise. Listening intently, he heard groans which 
seemed to proceed from a room near by. Being convinced 
that he ‘had made no mistake, he hastened to arouse his com¬ 
panion. Together they listened for a few minutes and became 
convinced that the groans proceeded from some one who was 
dying. Securing a candle, which they had left burning in the 
chimney corner, they cautiously entered the hall and made 
their way to the adjoining chamber, from which they had 
concluded the sounds proceeded. They found the door ajar 
and a light shining within. They entered the apartment and, 
to their utter consternation, perceived a person lying on the 
bed actually weltering in his blood; while, standing over him 
was a man, holding a lantern in one hand and a bloody knife 
in the other. The man had all the appearance of terror, but 
it appeared to them the terror which might well overwhelm a 


90 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


murderer who had accomplished his dark design. An instant 
later the two gentlemen perceived that the man was none 
other than Bradford, the landlord. Without delay they 
seized their host, disarmed him of his knife and charged him 
with being the murderer. By this time Bradford seemed to 
have recovered from his consternation, and vehemently 
asserted his innocence. He declared that, like the two gentle¬ 
men, he had been aroused by the groaning, and, seizing a 
knife to defend himself and a lantern to light his way, he 
had made his way to Hayes’ chamber, where he had been 
overcome with horror at the fearful spectacle he there 
encountered. 

His assertions did not receive the smallest credence; he 
was kept closely confined during the remainder of the night, 
and in the morning brought before a neighboring justice of the 
peace. Bradford continued to deny his guilt, but the justice, 
having heard the evidence, committed him to await the action 
of the grand jury. Such an impression had the case made 
upon the magistrate, that in writing out the mittimus, he 
remarked: “Mr. Bradford, either you or myself committed 
this murder. ’ ’ 

This terrible tragedy and the arrest of Bradford became at 
once the subjects of general conversation for the entire county. 
There was not an ale-house, tavern or public place of any 
kind where the accused man was not put on trial for his life. 
Bradford had always borne an exceptionally good character, 
no charge of any kind of wrong-doing having ever been 
brought against him. Given full credit for this, every 
improvised court in Oxfordshire found the accused guilty, and 
decided that he would be hanged, if he ever got his deserts. 
But the universal court of Judge Gossip speedily gave place to 
the assizes at Oxford.- Being arraigned, the prisoner entered 
a plea of not guilty, and the case was submitted to a jury. 
The two gentlemen who had discovered the murdered man 
with Bradford standing over him told their stories under oath, 
with decided effect; the fact that the landlord had heard Mr. 
Hayes declare that he had a large sum of money with him, and 
the guilty look upon his face when they discovered him with 



CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


9i 


the bloody knife-in his hand, which was proven to be his own, 
being strongly brought out. 

The defense of Bradford was the same that he had made to 
the two gentlemen who had surprised and seized him. He had 
heard the groans, had seized a knife, lighted a lantern, and, 
actuated by feelings of humanity and a desire to protect his 
guests and preserve the good name of his house, upon which a 
blight had never before fallen, had rushed into the room of the 
murdered man. He admitted that he had been seized with 
consternation and had, perhaps, presented a guilty-looking 
countenance, but declared that this was but the natural result 
of the horror of the occasion, and was not incompatible with 
his absolute innocence. Bradford was defended by able 
counsel, who insisted upon the inherent weakness of circum¬ 
stantial evidence and the good character of their client. Their 
efforts were vain; a clearer case could hardly be imagined, 
and the jury returned a verdict of guilty, without finding it 
necessary to leave their box. The prisoner was promptly 
sentenced, and died on the scaffold three days later, protest¬ 
ing his innocence of the crime. 

The dying declaration of Bradford was universally disbe¬ 
lieved, even those who had been his staunchest friends con¬ 
sidering him clearly guilty. And yet, it ultimately turned out 
that he had spoken the truth. About eighteen months after 
the execution of the innkeeper, a man who had for some time 
served as his footman, fell violently ill, and being at the point 
of death, confessed that he, himself, had murdered Mr. Hayes. 
In common with his master, he had heard the traveler 
announce that he was carrying quite a large sum of money, 
and had at once conceived a plan to kill and rob him. This he 
had carried into execution. He had barely secured the 
money, gold watch and snuff-box of the murdered man, and 
gained his own room, when he heard Bradford approach¬ 
ing. He had secreted the stolen property and permitted the 
landlord to go to the scaffold for a crime he had not com¬ 
mitted. 

And yet Jonathan Bradford, though technically innocent, 
was none the less morally guilty. Before his execution he 


92 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


confessed to a clergyman that he had gone to the room of Mr. 
Hayes with the intention of killing and robbing him. Arriv¬ 
ing, he found the gentleman in the last agonies of death, and 
was so horrified and dumfounded as to be unable to move. 
In his excitement he dropped his knife upon the body, where 
it became stained with blood, as likewise were his hands in 
recovering it. After the confession of the servant, the 
clergyman made the matter public, thus clearly establishing 
the truth of the transaction. 

The reports of this remarkable trial that have come down to 
us are rather meagre and do not show that any use was made 
by the defendant, upon his trial, of the circumstance that, 
though the money and valuables of Mr. Hayes were missing, 
they were not found upon the person of Bradford. Probably 
this point was made, and met with the suggestion that he had 
secreted the plunder and returned to make sure that his victim 
was dead, or to make a further search for valuables. 

Contrasting this case with that of Anton Probst, Bradford 
appears to have been condemned on quite as good and 
sufficient evidence as was the murderer of the Deering family. 
The bearing of a prisoner from the time of the commission of 
a crime down to and including his trial has a decided effect 
upon a jury. In his soul, Bradford was overcome with all the 
terrors of guilt. He had led a worthy life, and his natural 
cupidity had tempted him to commit murder. Not being a 
hardened criminal, his conscience doubtless caused him to look 
and act like a guilty man, thus aiding in his own conviction. 
Had he told the jury the real facts in the case, it would hardly 
have availed him, since the truth would have appeared vastly 
more improbable than the lie he concocted, which, though 
highly unreasonable, carried with it something of plausibility. 

Another instance of conviction upon circumstantial evi¬ 
dence is that of William Shaw, who was executed in Edin¬ 
burgh, Scotland, in 1721. Shaw was an upholsterer, with one 
child, a daughter, named Catherine. Even at that early day, 
Edinburgh had anticipated the modern apartment-house, and 
a considerable portion of the people lived in large buildings 
divided into what we now term “flats,” where a single 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


93 


entrance accommodated several different families. In apart¬ 
ments of this descrpition lived William Shaw and his daughter. 
Catherine had encouraged the addresses of a young man 
named John Lawson, a jeweler to whom the father was 
violently opposed. In turn he had presented a suitor for her 
hand in the person of the son of a friend, named Alexander. 

One evening, a man named Morrison, whose apartments 
adjoined those of the Shaws, overheard the father and 
daughter seemingly engaged in an angry altercation. Unable 
to understand the entire conversation, he distinctly heard the 
words “barbarity,” “cruelty,” “death,” in the voice of 
Catherine. These words were several times repeated. At 
length Shaw left his daughter, locking the door after him. 
For some time after the father left, absolute silence ensued, 
but after a time Morrison heard groans which evidently 
emanated from the daughter’s room. Thoroughly alarmed, 
he summoned some neighbors. The party approached the 
door, and, listening intently, heard Catherine say, “Cruel 
father, thou art the cause of my death.” A constable was 
summoned and the door broken open. Catherine Shaw was 
found weltering in her blood, a knife in her side. She was 
alive, but speechless. In answer to a question whether her 
father was the cause of her death, she seemed to nod her head, 
as indicating an affirmative answer, and almost immediately 
expired. 

At this very moment Shaw entered the room. He saw his 
neighbors and the constable, noted his daughter dead upon the 
bed, and seemed ready to sink to the floor. The officers at 
once placed him under arrest, and found marks of blood upon 
his shirt front, which he claimed had come from a wound upon 
his own person. 

William Shaw was arraigned upon the charge of having 
murdered his daughter. The facts set forth were proven 
against him, and he was convicted. In November, 1721, he 
was executed, and his body hanged in chains at Leith Walk. 

Was there a person in Edinburgh who believed the father 
guiltless? No, not one! notwithstanding his last words at the 
gallows were: “I am innocent of my daughter’s murder.” 


94 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


But in August, 1722, as a man, who had become the possessor 
of the late William Shaw’s apartments, was rummaging by 
chance in the chamber where Catherine Shaw died, he acci¬ 
dentally perceived a paper fallen into a cavity on one side of 
the chimney. It was folded as a letter, which, on opening, 
contained the following: “Barbarous father, your cruelty in 
having put it out of my power ever to join my fate to that of 
the only man I could love, and tyrannically insisting upon my 
marrying one whom - I always hated, has made me form a 
resolution to put an end to an existence which has now become 
a burden to me. I doubt not I shall find mercy in another 
world; for sure no benevolent being can require that I should 
any longer live in torment to myself in this! My death I lay 
to your charge; when you read this consider yourself as the 
inhuman wretch that plunged the knife into the bosom of the 
unhappy—Catherine Shaw. ’ ’ 

This letter being shown, the handwriting was recognized 
and avowed to be Catherine Shaw’s by many of her relations 
and friends. It became the public talk; the magistracy of 
Edinburgh, on a scrutiny, being convinced of its authenticity, 
ordered the body of William Shaw to be taken from the 
gibbet, and given to his family for interment; and, as the only 
possible reparation to his memory and the honor of his surviv¬ 
ing relations, they caused a pair of colors to be waved over his 
grave in token of his innocence, such being at that time the 
Scotch custom. 

The cases of Jonathan Bradford and William Shaw are well 
known to criminal lawyers, and have been scores, perhaps 
hundreds, of times repeated to juries who were called to pass 
upon the guilt or innocence of prisoners where the cause of 
the prosecution rested entirely, or largely, upon circumstantial 
evidence. Doubtless they have often proved effective, yet 
hardly with reason. In the nature of things, human testimony 
is, at the best, defective. That circumstances sometimes weave 
themselves into a chain that seemingly establishes the guilt ot 
a really innocent person, the instances cited, and numerous 
others that might be referred to, abundantly prove. But is 
circumstantial evidence to be sweepingly condemned and 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


95 


systematically discredited on this account? When everything 
is taken into account the answer must certainly be in the 
negative. Not only is circumstantial evidence to be credited, 
but in some respects it is entitled to higher consideration than 
the testimony of eye-witnesses. The latter may, often do, lie 
with impunity, while it is only rarely—so rarely that the 
instances become historical—that a sequence of events, when 
critically considered, leads to false conclusions. Even in cases 
that depend upon direct testimony, the strongest supports are 
often trivial incidents, by which the truth of the main state¬ 
ment is made to stand or fall. This is well understood by the 
attorney skilled in cross-examination, who always endeavors 
to discredit the witness by bringing his statements into direct 
conflict with a clearly and definitely established fact. 

Circumstantial evidence is entitled to the highest credit, 
but, at the same time, it should be closely, and, what is more 
to the point, intelligently, criticised. In the experience of the 
author—who has had much to do with the detection and pun¬ 
ishment of crime—where this class of evidence misleads, it is 
usually because it is not carefully weighed, or is chargeable to 
unscrupulous methods on the part of lawyers, or detectives. 
One fact is clear; for every innocent man who has been 
hanged upon circumstantial evidence, ten, probably ten times 
ten, of the same class have suffered death through direct evi¬ 
dence, based upon deliberate perjury. If this be doubted, 
read the chapter on Judicial Murders in the present volume, 
and learn that men are greater and more successful liars than 
facts. 

Of all crimes conceivable by the human mind none arouse 
such feelings of abhorrence and detestation as matricide. It 
seems incredible that one can become so debased, so utterly 
lost, not alone to the natural feelings of a man, but to the 
instincts of a brute as well, that he can deliberately take the 
life of the mother that bore and nourished him. Yet, without 
being common, such crimes are by no means rare. In the 
recorded cases, anger and drunkenness will generally be 
found the moving causes. While these offer nothing by way 
of excuse, they place the offense on a different footing than 


96 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


those where it is committed from motives of cupidity. One of 
the most notable cases of matricide for gain, in the sense of 
being cruel and repulsive, occurred in 1889 in the State of 
Michigan, a conviction being obtained on circumstantial evi¬ 
dence alone. 

On the morning of January 24th, of that year, pursuant to a 
previous appointment, a paperhanger went to the house of a 
Mrs. Latimer, a widow lady, living in the city of Jackson, 
Michigan. On arriving, he found the door open, and entering, 
was horror-stricken to discover the woman he had called to see 
dead upon the floor of her bedroom. Rushing from the house, 
he hurriedly gave the alarm, and the police at once began an 
investigation. They found a bullet wound in her neck and 
another in her face, while the position of the wounds seemed 
to indicate that the assassin had been leaning over his victim 
when he fired. Evidently, neither of these wounds had 
proved fatal, and from the position of the body it was the 
opinion of the police that the unfortunate lady had succeeded 
in getting out of her bed after being shot and in staggering to 
the corner of the room, where she either fell or was struck 
down by the murderer. Here she 'had been strangled to 
death, and her assailant, when life was extinct, raising her 
head and resting it on the cushioned arm of an easy chair, had 
carefully straightened out her night-dress and smoothed each 
ruffle as if she herself had deliberately lain down there to take 
her own life. 

Upon the door of the cellar, marks were found which sug¬ 
gested the work of a burglar’s “jimmy,” but they lacked the 
appearance of freshness, and left the police in doubt as to how 
ingress to the house had been obtained by the murderer. 

The first theory was that the murder had been committed 
for the purpose of robbery, but this was abandoned almost as 
soon as formed. Apparently not a drawer had even been 
opened. The silver standing upon the mantel was untouched, 
and the murdered woman’s jewelry, some of which was of 
considerable value, had not been disturbed. But other traces 
of the awful deed were not wanting. In a room in the rear of 
the apartment where the body was discovered, which had 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


97 


been formerly occupied by the dead woman’s son, Irving 
Latimer, there were blood stains upon the carpet and on the 
white counterpane of the bed, and also on the thumb-screw of 
the gas burner and the handle of the door. In this room also 
was found a silk handkerchief which had been apparently used 
in strangling the lady, still moist with blood. 

Such a crime would horrify the entire population of the 
largest city in the world, and in Jackson, where Mrs. Latimer 
had been generally known and universally respected, an 
intense excitement was created by its discovery, and the deep¬ 
est sympathy was expressed for young Latimer. He had gone 
to Detroit on the day before the commission of the murder, 
but, being notified by the chief of police of the tragedy, at 
once returned home. Although not a breath of suspicion had 
as yet attached to him, his bearing attracted attention. He 
seemed to manifest little concern, and, on his way from the 
railway depot to the family residence, conversed carelessly 
with a companion upon a number of indifferent topics. But 
as he approached the house where groups of sad-faced people 
were discussing the tragedy and certain to observe his actions, 
his demeanor underwent a radical change; he walked with 
bowed head, while tears coursed down his face. To such as 
spoke to him he expressed himself as being inexpressibly 
grieved and shocked at the terrible affliction which had over¬ 
taken him. To the officers who sympathetically accompanied 
him to the chamber where the remains of his mother had been 
decorously laid out, he swore a solemn oath that he would 
never rest until he had discovered and brought to justice the 
perpetrators of the brutal crime which had deprived him of 
the best friend he had on earth. 

It is always easy to form theories after the secret is out, 
and those who were present at this scene afterwards recalled 
that his tone and manner had seemed to lack something of 
sincerity. He eagerly assented to the suggestion that the 
murder had been committed by a burglar, and at once set 
about ransacking all the drawers and closets with the ostensible 
hope of finding some evidence in confirmation of this theory. 
He conducted the search hastily and clumsily, and when he 


9 8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


had completed it declared that a pocketbook and certain 
articles of jewelry belonging to his mother were missing. His 
attention being directed to the fact that many valuable articles 
in plain sight had been left undisturbed, he had no explanation 
to offer. These circumstances, considered in connection with 
some of his subsequent actions, finally directed suspicion 
toward him. Accordingly, an investigation into his conduct and 
movements immediately prior to the murder was set on foot. 

It was at once suggested that Irving was the only person 
who could possibly benefit by the death of Mrs. Latimer, he 
being her sole heir, and it was soon learned that he was deeply 
in debt and being hard pressed by his creditors. It was fur¬ 
ther discovered that, although individually without resources, 
he had promised to make several large payments on the very 
day when the body was discovered. An examination as to his 
whereabouts on the night of the murder disclosed some 
exceedingly damaging evidence against him. As already 
stated, he had gone to Detroit the day before the discovery, 
professedly on business, where he had registered at the Gris¬ 
wold House. 

His conduct, both at the hotel and upon the streets, had 
been that of a man anxious to render himself conspicuous. 
He had lounged about a number of saloons and had visited 
one or two disreputable resorts. About nine o’clock in the 
evening he called at the hotel office for the key of his room, 
and ostentatiously announced that he was going to bed. His bed 
was found the next morning in disorder, but it was learned 
that instead of seeking his couch, he had returned to Jackson, 
at which place he had boarded an early morning train on his 
return trip to Detroit. A train hand was found who recog¬ 
nized him as a man to whom his attention had been partic¬ 
ularly directed by his evident desire to escape observation; his 
coat collar being turned up and his head kept well forward on 
his breast. An inquiry into his actions after returning to 
Detroit showed that he had visited a barber shop in the neigh¬ 
borhood of the Griswold House shortly after his train reached 
that city. The man who waited on him noticed a large spot 
of blood upon the left sleeve of his coat, and directed his 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


99 


attention thereto. Latimer exhibited great nervousness and 
surprise, uttered a peculiar exclamation, and immediately set 
about attempting to wash it off with water and soap. The 
barber afterward noticed other blood stains on his clothes, but 
was too frightened and too much excited to say anything about 
them. Upon his return to his hotel he at once repaired to his 
room, the door of which the chambermaid saw him unlock. 
She had noticed the condition of the bed, and had been satis¬ 
fied that the disarrangement of the bed-clothes had not been 
caused by any one sleeping in it through the night. 

These discoveries pointed so plainly to Latimer as his 
mother’s murderer that he was placed under arrest. After 
being locked in a cell he was seen trying to conceal a pair of 
socks, a circumstance which resulted in his being required to 
give up all his clothing. The socks which he had been seek¬ 
ing to hide were deeply stained with blood, as were also his 
trousers and coat. When called upon to account for the 
stains upon his socks, he said that the blood had come from a 
recent operation for corns upon his feet. His feet did indeed 
show scars, but it was easy to see that they were not of recent 
origin, and even if he had cut his corns himself, as he 
claimed, it was palpably absurd that he should have drawn on 
his socks while his feet were yet bleeding; but even suppos¬ 
ing that he had done so, it was certain that he could not have 
lost enough blood from this cause to produce the observed 
effect. Moreover, a close examination of his patent-leather 
shoes disclosed that they too were stained with blood. From 
all these circumstances it was inferred that young Latimer had 
entered his mother’s room in his stocking feet, and after 
doing his bloody work had been in such haste to catch the 
earliest train for Detroit that he had drawn on his shoes with¬ 
out either drying or changing his socks. While lying in 
prison, he told innumerable lies, but of such a contradictory 
character as to rivet yet more firmly the links in the chain of 
evidence which was to drag him to his doom. 

Popular indignation against the prisoner was at fever heat, 
and threats of lynching were freely and openly made. It was 
even said that he had been guilty of poisoning his father, who 


100 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


had died suddenly and under peculiar circumstances, leaving 
policies of insurance upon his life amounting to sixteen thou¬ 
sand dollars, under some of which Irving was a beneficiary. 

The testimony against him, while wholly circumstantial, 
was too strong to admit of any reasonable doubt as to his 
guilt. He was convicted and sentenced to imprisonment in 
the state penitentiary during the term of his natural life, that 
being the most extreme penalty then known to the criminal 
code of Michigan. 

The story of this monstrous crime properly ends here, but 
a few lines as to the murderer’s career in prison may prove 
interesting and instructive, as showing the ingenuity of the 
condemned and the light estimate he placed upon human life. 
A good conversationalist and of most engaging manners, he 
succeeded in ingratiating himself with several of the officials 
of the prison, the discipline of which seems to have been 
remarkably lax. Latimer was permitted to indulge in various 
delicacies, such as chocolate and lemonade, the materials for 
making which he kept in his cell. He was allowed the free¬ 
dom of the corridors at unusual hours, and often treated the 
keepers on duty. He told a most seductive fairy story of a 
large sum of money that had been buried by his father on a 
small island off the coast of Rhode Island, and promised to 
give one of his keepers, who was about to leave the prison, a 
diagram that would enable him to locate and secure it. In 
this way he gradually gained the confidence of the turnkeys. 
One night, some three years after his incarceration, he gave 
his keepers some lemonade, which, thanks to his chemical 
knowledge, and the possession of poison which he had some¬ 
how managed to secure, probably from the prison laboratory 
to which he had access, he was able to convert into a death¬ 
dealing beverage. All the officers were prostrated, and one 
of them almost immediately expired. In the confusion, 
Latimer secured a bunch of keys and made good his escape. 
A few days later he was apprehended while endeavoring to 
purchase a pair of shoes in a small Michigan village, and 
returned to the prison, where, at the present writing, he still 
remains. 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE 


IOI 


At the time of the commission of this most revolting crime, 
Latimer was less than twenty-four years of age. He was well 
educated, and a chemist by profession. He had ample means 
to support himself, but fell a victim to those quadruple evils 
suggested in the old rhyme: 

“ Women and wine, game and deceit, 

Make the wealth small, the want great.” 

Excesses had plunged him into debt and so perverted his 
nature that the gratification of his passions became the one 
motive of his life. 

Although we have classified this case as matricide, in a 
strict sense it does not fall within the category. Having lost 
an only child, an infant son, Mr. and Mrs. Latimer adopted a 
boy in Rhode Island. They knew his father had been a 
criminal, yet they fancied they saw a resemblance to their 
dead child, and disregarded the theory of the transmission of 
criminal impulses by heredity. These facts were not made 
known until after the death of Mrs. Latimer. Irving Latimer 
had not the slightest intimation of his real parentage, and 
took her life believing that she was the woman to whom he 
owed his existence. Thus, so far as he was concerned, the 
crime was that of matricide. 

“Like mother, like son,” is a fairly safe adage to quote, and 
it will be something of a relief to the reader to know that so 
good a woman as Mrs. Latimer surely was did not give birth' 
to the unnatural mqnster who so barbarously took her life. 
On the other hand, his criminal instincts may well be traced to 
his depraved father. 


CHAPTER VII 


CIRCUMSTANTIAL EVIDENCE—THE WEBSTER- 
PARKMAN CASE 

On Friday, November 23, 1849, Doctor George Parkman, a 
wealthy and highly respected citizen of Boston, and one of the 
founders of the Massachusetts Medical College of that city, 
suddenly disappeared from view. Dr. Parkman, who was 
about sixty years of age, and a man of very active habits, had 
been about the city during that day, attending to his business as 
usual. Almost the last trace discovered of him was at a green¬ 
grocer’s, where he had purchased some lettuce for an invalid 
daughter. He was noted for his great punctuality, and his 
absence from the family table at the regular hour for dinner, 
half-past three o’clock, excited surprise and some uneasiness, 
which increased to positive alarm when he did not appear in 
the evening. The following day a most systematic search was 
instituted for the missing gentleman, which was stimulated by 
the offer of liberal rewards for his discovery, and extended to 
a distance of from fifty to sixty miles from the city. 

On the Sunday following the disappearance it was learned 
that Dr. Parkman had, on November 23d, met by appointment 
Dr. John W. Webster, Professor of Chemistry in the Harvard 
University, Cambridge, and lecturer on chemistry in the 
Medical College, Boston, in the rooms of the latter in the col¬ 
lege. This information was furnished by Dr. Webster himself, 
who appeared to have been the last person who had seen Dr. 
Parkman. 

To the Rev. Dr. Francis Parkman, a brother of the miss¬ 
ing man, of whose church Dr. Webster had at one time been a 
member, he made substantially the following statement: He 
was indebted to Dr. Parkman and had called on him on Friday 
morning, November 23d, and arranged that Parkman should 

102 


THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE 103 

call upon him that afternoon at half-past one, which he accord¬ 
ingly did, carrying some papers in his hand. Without delay, 
Webster had handed his visitor $483, and some odd cents. 
Upon receiving it, Dr. Parkman took a note from among the 
papers in his hand, dashed a pen through the signature of Dr. 
Webster, handed it to that gentleman and hurriedly quitted the 
room, after remarking that he would have the mortgage 
cancelled. It was also learned that, on the previous Monday, 
Dr. Parkman had, in the college building, upbraided Professor 
Webster for not paying him the money, had accused him of 
disposing of a portion of the property—a cabinet of minerals 
—upon which he held a mortgage, and remarked in con¬ 
clusion, “Something must be done to-morrow.” 

In the meantime, every clue that was discovered led to the 
Medical College and terminated there; no one being found 
who had seen the missing man after his interview with Pro¬ 
fessor Webster. Two examinations of the college were made, 
one on Monday, which was a mere matter of form to serve as 
an excuse for searching other buildings, and another on the 
next day. Neither of these searches led to the slightest dis¬ 
covery. 

While this was being done, one man had serious suspicions 
which led to the ultimate discovery of an awful crime. This 
man was the janitor of the college, Littlefield by name. He 
began a systematic espionage upon the movements of Pro¬ 
fessor Webster, and upon Friday, November 30th, discovered in 
the laboratory, and a vault connected with it, certain human 
remains, which he at once concluded to be those of Dr. George 
Parkman. The discovery was effected in the following man¬ 
ner : Besides apartments on the first floor of the building, con¬ 
sisting of a lecture room with a laboratory behind it provided 
with a stove, water and sink, Dr. Webster had, on the base¬ 
ment floor, another laboratory, reached by a stairway from the 
upper one, containing an assay furnace and also provided with 
running water and a sink. Connected with this laboratory 
was a private closet, with an opening into a vault at the base 
of the building, into which the sea water was admitted. Into 
this vault there was no opening other than that from the 


104 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


private closet. When all other parts of the college had been 
examined without results, Littlefield resolved to investigate 
this vault. Choosing those times for his work when Professor 
Webster was not about the premises, the janitor broke a hole 
through the brick and mortar wall, at a point below the closet. 
No sooner was the opening completed than the horrified 
Littlefield discovered within the vault parts of a male human 
body. These consisted of the pelvis—the hip bones—the right 
thigh from the hip to the knee, and the left leg from the knee 
to the ankle. 

As a matter of course, these fearfully incriminating dis¬ 
coveries led to Dr. Webster’s immediate apprehension. A 
more minute examination of the premises was at once made, 
which led to further disclosures. In a tea-chest, buried in tan- 
bark and covered with specimens of minerals, were found a 
large hunting-knife, a thorax—chest—with both clavicles and 
scapulae attached, and having a perforation in the region of 
the heart, and a left thigh, to which was tied a piece of string. 

Examined by experts in the college, these parts were 
decided to belong to one human body, there being no dupli¬ 
cates and all fitting together. By means of measurements and 
calculations, they were determined to have belonged to a man 
about five feet ten and a half inches in height, which corre¬ 
sponded closely with that of the missing Dr. Parkman. 

Among the ashes of the furnace were found a pearl shirt 
button; a human tooth with a hole in it, which appeared to 
have been once filled; about two hundred grains of gold; 
three blocks of mineral teeth, and a large number of frag¬ 
ments of bone belonging to the skull, face, neck, hands and 
other portions of a human body. 

The trial of John W. Webster was held in Boston, before 
the Hon. Samuel S. Shaw, Chief Justice, and three associate 
justices of the Supreme Judicial Court of Massachusetts. It 
began on March 19, 1850, and continued for eleven days, one 
hundred and sixteen witnesses being examined, forty-seven of 
these being in behalf of the accused. To say that this trial 
excited intense interest would very mildly express the situa¬ 
tion. The public was almost crazed, and business at Boston, 




THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE 105 

and quite generally throughout New England, was well-nigh 
suspended. Dr. Parkman had been widely known, and his 
figure was a familiar one to nearly every inhabitant of Boston. 
With Dr. Webster the public was still better acquainted; he 
was on terms of intimacy with the most celebrated men in the 
country, and was everywhere most highly esteemed. He had 
been a professor of chemistry for twenty years, possessed a 
very fine scientific library, and one of the most complete 
musical libraries of America. That such a man could have 
been guilty of a brutal murder, followed by revolting attempts 
at concealment, the public quite generally refused to believe 
possible. It is undoubtedly true that no crime in the annals 
of this country has ever attracted such general and long- 
sustained interest. 

Space does not permit a presentation of more than a bare 
outline of the mass of evidence introduced in this strongly 
contested case. Depending entirely upon a large number of 
circumstances which were so dovetailed together as to present 
an almost unbroken chain, connecting the accused directly 
with the crime, the case for the State was the most remark¬ 
able array of circumstantial evidence ever presented in this 
country. 

The height, indicated by the remains, was exactly that of 
Dr. Parkman. The time of life was proven to be similar. 
Dr. Parkman had a prominent rising chin, and the bones pre¬ 
sented that peculiarity. The left side of the lower jaw showed 
a remarkable irregularity, which a dentist who had made 
artificial teeth for Dr. Parkman, swore existed in his jaw. 

But the most satisfactory identification of the remains was 
furnished by the three blocks of mineral teeth, already 
referred to as having been found in the laboratory furnace. 
These were positively identified by Dr. Nathan Keep, a Boston 
dentist, as having been made by him for Dr. Parkman in 
October and November, 1846. The testimony of Dr. Keep 
was remarkable for its detail, and was given in part from 
memory and in part from certain memoranda kept by all 
dentists. He produced in court the original models from 
which the gold plates were made, which showed irregularities 


io6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


corresponding to those indicated by the jawbones of the 
remains. The identification was full and complete, and was 
not impaired to the smallest extent by a long and most severe 
cross-examination. 

Dr. Keep’s assistant, Dr. Lester Noble, corroborated his 
testimony in many particulars. It was also shown that there 
are peculiarities in the work of every dentist which make it as 
easy for him to identify it as for an artist to make sure that he 
has painted a certain picture. 

Dr. Keep testified that when Dr. Parkman ordered the teeth 
he asked if they could be completed by a certain time, saying 
that unless they could be he did not want them. The reason 
for this was that the Massachusetts Medical College was about 
to be opened with some inaugural ceremonies, on a stated day. 
He was one of the endowers of the institution, having 
donated the land upon which it was built, and thought it 
possible that he might have to make some remarks upon the 
occasion. The work was completed with some difficulty, and 
was only ready a few minutes before the doctor called for it 
on his way to the college. It seems a remarkable coincidence 
that these teeth should have been ordered for the opening of a 
college towards which Dr. Parkman had contributed liberally, 
and where he was afterwards murdered, and that they should 
prove the chief evidence by which his mangled and half- 
burned remains were positively identified. In a novel, such 
a combination would almost be thought overdrawn. 

A number of medical men of great prominence testified for 
the State on questions looking to the identification of the 
remains, among them being Dr. Oliver Wendell Holmes, 
long eminent both as a physician and poet. At the time of 
the trial he was Parkman Professor of Anatomy and Physi¬ 
ology in Harvard University, the professorship having been so 
named in honor of Dr. George Parkman. 

The evidence connecting Professor Webster with the crime, 
while entirely of a circumstantial character, was so complete 
and full as to leave no reasonable doubt in the mind of any 
candid and unbiased person as to his guilt. It was shown 
that after the disappearance of Dr. Parkman he ordered that 


THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE 107 

no fire be built in his rooms, and yet that he had a fire and was 
there during much longer hours than usual, including Sunday, 
a very unusual thing with him. He instructed an express- 
man, named Sawin, to bring him some fagots and a quantity 
of tan-bark to the college, and leave them in the janitor’s 
cellar. Always before Sawin had left articles in the profes¬ 
sor’s rooms. This order was given on the Monday after the 
disappearance. When it is remembered that a portion of the 
body was found packed in tan-bark, the importance of the 
point becomes apparent. The statement made by the defend¬ 
ant that he had paid nearly five hundred dollars to Dr. Park- 
man on the last day he was seen alive proved a most 
unfortunate one, since he was unable to show where he had 
procured the money. Dr. Webster’s position in the medical 
college was entirely distinct from his professorship in the 
University of Cambridge. In the former institution, his com¬ 
pensation consisted of tickets which he sold to students for 
his lectures. This money was coming in at the time, and it 
was from this source that he promised to pay Dr. Parkman. 
Yet it was shown that all this money, with the exception of 
$90, which he deposited in a bank after that fatal Friday, had 
been expended elsewhere. This $90 he received from his 
ticket-seller on the morning of the murder. The doctor told 
this man that he had paid Dr. Parkman, and that there would 
be no further trouble. 

Dr. Webster was arrested at his home in Cambridge, on 
the evening of November 30, just one week after the murder 
of Dr. Parkman. He was told that they wished him to come 
to the college in the city, and did not know that he was under 
arrest until actually inside the jail. He broke down and acted 
in a most distressing manner, the officers deposing that they 
had never seen a man laboring under such intense excitement. 
It afterwards transpired that he was suffering from the effects 
of poison, taken with suicidal intent. Later, he was removed 
to the college and shown the remains which were spread out 
upon a table. It required the strength of two men to support 
him during this ordeal. Here he made a remark that sug¬ 
gests the famous case of Eugene Aram, set forth elsewhere in 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


108 

this volume. “Those bones,” said he, “are no more Dr. 
Parkman’s than they are mine.” Other points of resemblance 
between these two prominent cases are found in the circum¬ 
stance that both men were of marked intellectual ability and 
widely known as authors and men of great attainments; that 
neither is generally believed to have been a deliberate mur¬ 
derer; that both, before conviction, maintained their entire 
innocence and attempted suicide; that each addressed the jury 
in his own behalf, and afterwards made a written confession. 

While in jail, the accused man wrote one of his daughters a 
letter in which he asked her to tell her mother not to open a 
certain little packet, which he described. The letter was read 
by the authorities and the packet secured. It was found to 
contain the two notes given by Webster to Parkman, with a 
heavy pen mark across the signature of the former. Before 
the arrest of Dr. Webster, three letters, written in a scrawling 
hand, and tending to throw the authorities off the track, 
were addressed to Francis Tukey, City Marshal of Boston. 
These were shown to be in the handwriting of Professor 
Webster. The point was strongly combated by the defense, 
but was so well established as to make a strong impression 
upon the jury. The defendant subsequently admitted that he 
had written one of the letters. In all probability he was the 
author of all three. There were many other points adduced; 
such as blood stains upon the defendant’s clothing and slippers, 
the presence of chemicals, probably used in effacing blood 
marks and treating portions of the remains, together with his 
peculiar bearing during the week between the homicide and 
his arrest. 

The defense, while somewhat ingenious, was, as in the 
nature of things it needs must be, decidedly weak. It con¬ 
sisted largely of an array of witnesses, some of them of great 
prominence, who swore to the excellent character of the ac¬ 
cused. Indeed, the principal efforts of his counsel were directed 
to this matter and to convince the jury that a man of Dr. 
Webster’s high character was quite incapable of committing 
such a diabolical deed. As to the presence within the precincts 
of the premises occupied exclusively by the defendant, of the 


THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE 109 

remains, no explanation was offered, the theory being that they 
were placed there by some one who had access to the place. The 
tendency of this was to throw suspicion upon and discredit the 
testimony of Littlefield, the janitor, through whose efforts the 
crime was first discovered. Neither did they explain from 
what source the professor had obtained the money he claimed 
to have paid Dr. Parkman on the day of the latter’s disappear¬ 
ance, except to say that he had been accumulating it for some 
time. 

Counsel for the defendant made a most vigorous attack 
upon all the evidence of the State as being circumstantial, and 
hence unreliable. The prosecution accepted this issue, and 
the debate is one of great interest and decided value to the 
legal fraternity. Before delivering his charge to the jury, 
Chief-Justice Shaw asked the prisoner if he had anything to 
add to what his counsel had said in his behalf. Against the 
decided protests of his attorneys, Professor Webster arose, and 
with great apparent composure and decided earnestness, 
addressed the jury, speaking for nearly half an hour. His 
speech was principally confined to questions of fact and solemn 
protestations of his innocence. As to the fact that he had 
maintained great calmness during the trial, he said: “It has 
been said that I have been calm. If I have seemed so, I have 
not been conscious of it. My counsel have pressed me to keep 
as calm as possible; and my very calmness has been brought 
to bear against me. In one sense I have been calm; my trust 
has been in my God, and in my innocence.” It should be 
understood that at this time a prisoner could not testify in his 
own behalf in Massachusetts. 

After a very fair and comprehensive charge by the court, 
the jury retired, and in three hours returned a verdict of 
guilty. On Monday, April 1st, Chief-Justice Shaw, in a most 
impressive manner, sentenced Dr. Webster to death. Great 
efforts were made to save the life of the condemned. An 
appeal was taken, and the case argued in a manner that has 
made it one of the leading authorities in American law on the 
question of circumstantial evidence. An appeal for a com¬ 
mutation of sentence to imprisonment having proved ineffec- 


no 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


tual, the condemned man was executed in Boston on the 30th 
day of August, 1850. 

Before the application for the writ of error, and about three 
weeks after the verdict, an application was made to Hon. 
George N. Briggs, Governor of Massachusetts and the Council 
of the State, for a re-hearing of the case. In his petition Dr. 
Webster asserted his innocence in the most positive terms. 
Among other things he subscribed to the following: 

“To Him who seeth in secret, and before whom I may ere 
long be called to appear, would I appeal for the truth of what 
I now declare, as also for the truth of the solemn declaration 
that I had no agency in placing the remains of a human body 
in or under my rooms in the Medical College in Boston, nor 
do I know by whom they were so placed. I am the victim of 
circumstances, or a foul conspiracy, or of the attempt of some 
individual to cause suspicion to fall upon me, influenced per¬ 
haps by the prospect of obtaining a large reward.” 

Before this petition was acted upon the court decided 
adversely to his application for a writ of error, whereupon Dr. 
Webster withdrew his petition to the Governor, and filed 
another one, asking for clemency. In this he gave the lie to 
his previous solemn statement and confessed that he had killed 
Dr. Parkman. It was quite a long statement, but the salient 
points, so far as the commission of the crime and the disposi¬ 
tion of the body are concerned, are as follows: 

“Tuesday, the 20th of November, I sent a note to Dr. 
Parkman, asking him to call at my rooms Friday, the 23d, 
after my lecture. He had become of late very importunate 
for his pay. He had threatened me with a suit; to put an 
officer in my house. The purport of my note was simply to 
ask the conference. I did not tell him in it what I could 
do, or what I had to say about the payment. I wished to gain 
for those few days a release from his solicitations, to which I 
was liable every day, upon occasions and in a manner very 
disagreeable and alarming to me, and also to omit, for so 
long a time at least, the fulfillment of recent threats of severe 
measures. I did not expect to pay him when Friday should 
arrive. 


THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE 


hi 


“My purpose was, if he should accede to the proposed 
interview, to state to him my embarrassment and utter inabil¬ 
ity to pay him at present, to apologize for those things in my 
conduct which had offended him, to throw myself upon his 
mercy, to beg for further time and indulgence for the sake of 
my family, if not for myself, and to make as good promises to 
him as I could have any hope of keeping. I did not hear from 
him that day, nor the next (Wednesday); but I found that 
Thursday he had been abroad in pursuit of me, though with¬ 
out finding me. I feared he had forgotten the appointment, 
or else did not mean to wait for it. I feared he would come 
in upon me at my lecture hour, or while I was preparing my 
experiments for it. Therefore, I called at his house that 
morning (Friday), between eight and nine to remind him of 
my wish to see him at the college at half-past one—my lecture 
closing at one. I did not then stop to talk with him, for I 
expected the conversation would be a long one, and I had my 
lecture to prepare for. Dr. Parkman agreed to call on me as 
I proposed. He came accordingly, between half-past one and 
two. He came in at the lecture room door. I was engaged 
in removing some glasses from my lecture room table into the 
room at the rear, called the upper laboratory. He came 
rapidly toward me and followed me into the laboratory. He 
immediately addressed me with great energy: ‘Are you ready, 
sir? Have you got the money?’ I replied: ‘No, Dr. Park- 
man,’ and was beginning to make my appeal to him. He 
would not listen to me, but interrupted me with great vehe¬ 
mence. He called me a ‘scoundrel,’ ‘liar,’ and went on heaping 
upon me the most bitter taunts and opprobrious epithets. 

“While he was talking he drew from his pocket a handful of 
papers, and took from them my two notes, and also an old letter 
from Dr. Hossah congratulating him (Dr. P.) on his success in 
getting me appointed professor of chemistry. ‘You see,’ said 
he, ‘I got you into your office, and now I will get you out of it. ’ 
He then put into his pocket all the papers except the letter 
and the two notes. I cannot tell how long the torrent of 
threats and invectives continued, and I can now recall but a 
small portion of what he said. At first I kept interposing, 


I 


112 MURDER IN ALL AGES 

trying to pacify him, so that I might obtain the object for 
which I sought the interview. But I could not stop him, and 
soon my own temper was up. I forgot everything. I felt 
nothing but the sting of his words. I was excited to the high¬ 
est degree of passion, and while he was speaking and gesticu¬ 
lating in the most violent and menacing manner, thrusting the 
letter and his fist into my face, in my fury I seized whatever 
thing was handiest—it was a stick of wood—and dealt him an 
instantaneous blow with all the force that passion could give 
it. I did not know, nor think, nor care, where I should hit 
him, nor how hard, nor what the effect would be. It was on 
the side of his head, and there was nothing to break the force 
of the blow. He fell instantly on the pavement. There was 
no second blow. He did not move. I stooped over him, 
and he seemed to be lifeless. Blood flowed from his mouth, 
and I got a sponge and wiped it away. I applied restoratives, 
but without effect. I spent perhaps ten minutes in my 
endeavor to resuscitate him, but I found that he was absolutely 
dead. In my horror and consternation I ran instinctively to 
the doors and bolted them. And then what was I to do? It 
never occurred to me to go out and declare what I had done 
and obtain assistance. I saw nothing but the alternative of a 
successful removal and concealment of the body on one hand, 
and of infamy and destruction on the other. 

“The first thing I did, as soon as I could do anything, was 
to drag the body into the private room adjoining. Then I 
stripped it and carefully burned the clothes. They were all 
consumed there that afternoon, with papers, pocketbook, or 
whatever else they might have contained. I did not examine 
the pockets or remove anything except the watch. That I 
took and threw over the bridge as I went home to Cambridge. 
My next move was to get the body into the sink, which stands 
in a small private room. Then it was entirely dismembered. 
It was quickly done as a work of terrible and desperate 
necessity. The only instrument used was the knife found by 
the officers in the tea chest, and which I kept for cutting cork. 
While dismembering the body a stream of water was kept 
running through the sink, thus carrying off the blood. There 



DR. WEBSTER CONFRONTED WITH THE REMAINS OK DR. PARKMAN.—PAGE IO7. 














































































































































































THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE 


ii3 

was a fire burning in the furnace in the lower laboratory, 
which I had kindled that day for the purpose of making 
oxygen gas. The head and viscera were put in the furnace 
that day, and the fuel heaped on. Some of the extremities, I 
believe, were also burned that day. The pelvis and some of 
the limbs were put under the lid of the lecture room table, in 
what is called the well—a deep sink, lined with lead. A 
stream of water was turned on and kept running all through 
Friday. The thorax was put in a similar well in the lower 
laboratory, which I filled with water, and threw in a quantity 
of potash which I found there. This disposition of the 
remains was not changed till after the visit of the officers 
Monday. When the body had been all thus disposed of I 
cleared away all traces of what had been done. The stick 
with which the fatal blow had been struck I put into the fire. 
It was a grape-vine stump, say two inches in diameter and 
two feet long. I had carried it from Cambridge to the col¬ 
lege long before, to show the effect of certain chemicals in 
coloring woods. 

‘ ‘ I took the two notes from the table, seized an old metallic 
pen and dashed it across the face and through the signature, 
and put them in my pocket. I had as yet given no thought 
as to what account I should give of the object or results of my 
interview with Dr. Parkman. I left the college to go home at 
six o’clock. I collected myself as well as I could, that I might 
meet my family and friends with composure. Saturday I 
visited the college, but made no change in the disposition of 
the remains, and laid no plans as to my future course. When, 
Saturday evening, I read the notice in the papers concerning 
the disappearance, I was deeply impressed with my taking 
some ground as to the character of my interview with Dr. 
Parkman, for I saw it must become known that I had had such 
an interview. The question exercised me much, but Sunday 
my course was taken. I would go to Boston and be the first 
to declare myself as the person, as yet unknown, with whom 
Dr. Parkman had Friday morning made the appointment. I 
would take the ground that I had invited him to the college to 
pay him money, and that I had paid him accordingly. I fixed 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


114 

upon the sum by taking the notes and adding the interest, 
which, it appears, I cast erroneously. If I had thought of this 
course earlier I would not have deposited Tetter’s check for 
$90 in the bank Saturday, but would have suppressed it, as 
going so far toward making up the sum which I was to pro¬ 
fess having paid the day before. I looked into the rooms 
Sunday afternoon, but did nothing. Monday, after the first 
visit of the officers, I took the pelvis and some of the limbs 
from the upper well and threw them into the vault under the 
privy. I packed the thorax in the tea chest as found. 
Wednesday I built another fire in the furnace and burned some 
of the limbs, which was the last I had to do with the remains. ” 

Had Professor Webster made this statement when first 
arrested, or even after his conviction, instead of so vehemently 
protesting his entire innocence, it is very possible that his sen¬ 
tence might have been commuted. As it was, his petition was 
rejected, and all hope of life swept away. When every hope 
was gone the condemned man regained his composure and 
admitted the entire justice of his impending fate. To a Mr. 
Andrews, who visited him the Sunday before his execution, he 
said: 

“Mr. Andrews, I consider this whole thing perfect justice. 
The officers of the law are right; everybody is right; and I am 
wrong! And I feel that if yielding up my life to the injured 
law will atone, even in part, for the crime I have committed, 
that it is a consolation! ’ ’ 

Two days before his execution, in an interview with the 
sheriff, he made the following reply to an allusion as to the 
possibility of his committing suicide: 

“Why should I? All the proceedings in my case have been 
just. The court discharged their duty! The law-officers of 
the commonwealth did their duty, and no more! The verdict 
of the jury was just! The sentence of the court was just; and 
it is just that I should die on the scaffold, in accordance with 
that sentence. ’ ’ 

Dr. Webster met death with composure and resignation, 
and professed full faith and confidence in Christianity. 

The case of Professor Webster is somewhat difficult to 


THE WEBSTER-PARKMAN CASE n 5 

classify with reference to the motive that led to the commission 
of the crime. If his confession be taken as absolutely true, it 
must be assigned to the category of blind, ungovernable rage, 
and this disposition has generally been made of the matter. It 
must be remembered, however, that in making this confession, 
he was striving to save his life, hence his statements must be 
taken with a liberal allowance on that score. Besides, three 
weeks before, he had addressed a petition to the same tribunal 
in which he most emphatically asserted his entire innocence. 
There are many critical people, who, after having carefully 
examined this most remarkable case, have concluded that the 
murder was deliberately planned by Professor Webster. 
Several things point to the accuracy of this conclusion A 
day or two before the homicide, and after the appointment 
had been made for a meeting on that fated Friday afternoon, 
he had instructed the janitor to bring him about a quart of 
human blood from the hospital, saying that he wanted it for 
some experiment. This would point to an excuse for the 
presence of blood about his premises. Dr. Webster was a 
good-natured man, never known to give way to rage; indeed, 
he was a man of most even temperament, and it hardly seems 
probable that he would so far lose all self-control, because 
rather harshly dunned for the payment of a just debt, long 
past due, as to kill a man who had, on many occasions, stood 
his friend. Again, his systematic efforts to dispose of the 
remains and to throw suspicion upon Littlefield, the janitor, 
make strongly against the theory that the act was the result of 
uncontrollable rage. Another point in support of this theory 
is found in the circumstance that he told his ticket agent the 
morning of the murder that he had paid Dr. Parkman. 

So manifold are the passions that sway the human heart, 
and so contradictory the actions of man, that it is impossible 
to more than conjecture what the real cause of this homicide 
was. The case had a most salutary effect upon the criminal 
practice of Massachusetts, and the entire country as well. 
Circumstantial evidence, while still closely scanned and care¬ 
fully weighed, is received with more favor by courts and juries 
than before the trial and conviction of John W. Webster. 


CHAPTER VIII 


THE DEARING MASSACRE AND DRUSE MURDER 

The intricacies and contradictions of the human heart are 
past finding out. Shakespeare indicates extremes of human 
action when he makes Hamlet say: “To kill a king and marry 
with his brother. ’ ’ But what shall we say of a man who will 
deliberately murder eight people—every one his friend—and 
then proceed to feed the horses and pigs lest they become 
hungry before the crime is discovered? How are we to 
classify a monster who dashes out the brains of an infant 
barely old enough to lisp its mother’s name, and then pro¬ 
ceeds to throw corn to the chickens? Upon what theory are 
we to judge a rational creature, who, having done all these 
things for a few paltry dollars, when detected longs to atone 
for his crimes and wishes that he might die eight times—once 
for each life he has taken? 

In 1866, there lived on what was then known as Jones’ 
Lane, in the first ward of the city of Philadelphia, a family 
named Dearing, consisting of Christopher Dearing, his wife 
Julia, and five children, ranging in age from ten years to four¬ 
teen months. Although, strictly speaking, within the limits 
of the city, the house of the Dearing family was really in the 
country. The land was utilized for farming, and the nearest 
house was some two hundred yards distant. Near the small 
house was a barn in which was kept a horse and pig. Dearing 
tilled some land surrounding his house, but his real business 
was that of buying cattle, which occupied most of his time. 
In this enterprise he had a partner, who supplied the necessary 
capital, the profits being equally divided. In the fall of 1865 
a young German, Anton Probst by name, had applied to Mr. 
Dearing for work, and had been given employment. Mrs. 

116 


DEARING MASSACRE 


117 

Dearing did not like his actions, and he was discharged after 
living in the house about three weeks. The following Feb¬ 
ruary he returned and asked Mr. Dearing to re-employ him, 
which, in the natural kindness of his heart, the latter did. 

On Wednesday, the nth of April, 1866, a neighbor from 
whom Mr. Dearing was in the habit of borrowing newspapers 
remarked that something must be wrong at Dearing’s, as 
none of the children had been sent for papers since the preced¬ 
ing Friday. He remarked also that he had seen no one mov¬ 
ing about the premises for some days. Accordingly, he 
walked over to the Dearing house, which he found untenanted. 
Proceeding to the barn he discovered the horses almost dead 
from thirst, while the pig was so weak as to be unable to rise. 
Having cared for the animals he returned to the house, and 
looking through a window saw that everything inside was in 
the utmost disorder. Thoroughly alarmed, he went for a 
relation, who, entering the barn, saw a stocking projecting 
from a pile of hay. This was found to contain a human foot. 
The horrified men at once summoned further assistance, and a 
systematic search was instituted. In the barn, covered with 
hay, were found seven human bodies; those of Mr. and Mrs. 
Dearing, their four children and a young lady, Miss Elizabeth 
Dolan, of Burlington City, N. J. The bodies of the children 
were ranged beside that of the mother, that of the infant 
being laid upon her breast. The head of each had been 
crushed in with a blunt instrument of some kind, their throats 
being horribly gashed, presumably by an axe. A boy named 
Cornelius Carey, who had been employed about the little farm, 
working with Probst, w T as also missing. The following day, 
his dead body was found beside a hay-rick, some three hun¬ 
dred yards from the house. He had been murdered in pre¬ 
cisely the same manner as the others, and his body likewise 
covered with hay. 

Of the five children of the murdered parents, the eldest, 
Willie Dearing, alone escaped. This was not due to any 
temporary feeling of humanity on the part of the murderous 
wretch. The boy had been sent over the Schuylkill to visit 
his grandfather, and thus became the sole survivor of the ill- 


n8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


fated family. But there are compensations in death as well as 
in life, and another victim had taken his place. The family of 
Miss Dolan, of Burlington City, N. J., were friends of the 
Dearings, and Elizabeth was in the habit of visiting them. 
On the day of the murder, Saturda)^, April 7th, she came to 
Philadelphia on a steamboat. Mr. Dealing was expecting her, 
but missed her at the wharf. He seems, however, to have 
overtaken her, as the two reached his home in the buggy 
together, where the murderer, armed with his death-dealing 
axe, was anxiously, eagerly, awaiting his employer’s arrival. 

The public had barely recovered from the shock of a most 
brutal murder committed at Germantown, near Philadelphia, 
and the horrible details of the Dearing massacre threw the 
community into a state of almost uncontrollable excitement. 
Not only that; the news was flashed around the globe and sent 
a thrill of horror through the universal heart of civilized man. 
The murderer, or murderers—as at first it was not thought pos¬ 
sible that one man could have perpetrated the wholesale crime— 
had ransacked the house, taking every article of value, over¬ 
looking nothing. Even the boots and clothing of the mur¬ 
dered man had been carried away. Some of Probst’s clothing 
was found upon the premises, and as no one in the neighbor¬ 
hood had seen him since the preceding Friday, he was strongly 
suspected. The police were at once called in and began a 
systematic search for the supposed murderer. 

His movements were traced from one low resort to 
another. It was learned that he had sold one of Mr. Dearing’s 
revolvers to a saloonkeeper, and one of his watches to a 
jeweler. On the Thursday after the murder, a police officer 
came upon a man in the neighborhood of Twenty-third and 
Market streets, one of the populous portions of the city. His 
appearance did not tally with the description of Probst, but he 
engaged him in conversation and became suspicious. As the 
district attorney, in his opening address upon the trial, rather 
strongly put it: “With no other guide than the God-given 
instincts which detect murder, they saw a man whom they 
were, as by a divine impulse, compelled to arrest.’’ At the 
police station he was searched, and various articles belonging 


DEARING MASSACRE 


119 

to the Dearings found in his possession. More than that; he 
was then wearing the boots he had taken from the murdered 
man, and several articles of his clothing. Probst made no 
resistance, or even protest, but seemed rather relieved than 
distressed at his apprehension. 

On April 25th, within three weeks of the fearful massacre, 
Anton Probst was placed on trial for the murder of Christo¬ 
pher Dearing, the other seven indictments being held over 
against him. The prisoner entered a plea of not guilty. He 
wished to offer no defense, but the court appointed two able 
attorneys to represent him. The trial occupied several days. 
The district attorney presented the case, depending entirely 
upon circumstantial evidence, yet absolutely overwhelming in 
its completeness. Probst had made many damaging admis¬ 
sions, amounting almost to a confession, but nothing of this 
was introduced in evidence, the case being regarded as amply 
strong without it The defense introduced no witnesses. 
Probst’s attorneys admitted that the property of the murdered 
man had been found upon the prisoner, but argued that he 
might have robbed them and some one else have murdered 
them afterwards. Their only real defense was the inherent 
weakness of circumstantial evidence. Upon his arrival in 
New York from Germany, in 1863, Probst, who at that time 
was only twenty-one years old, had immediately enlisted in 
the Union army. He deserted several times, and became a 
professional “bounty jumper.” His counsel attempted to 
secure the sympathy of the jury by representing him as an 
ex-soldier. Commenting on this in his closing address to the 
jury, the district attorney, in vigorous and eloquent terms, 
denounced Probst and protested against the honored and 
honoraole title of soldier being applied to the murderous wretch. 
These sentiments appear so just that we quote a few lines. 

“He a soldier! By killing Cornelius Carey alone he forfeits 
the name of soldier He a soldier! The man who carries 
innocent children into a barn and kills them with as little 
remorse as if he was a farmer cutting the throats of chickens 
to take them to market! 

“He a soldier! that would murder these iunocents, cutoff 


I 20 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


their little fingers, strip off their little aprons, and walk coolly 
to the house made desolate by his horrid crime, and coolly 
wipe his hands upon the baby’s garments! 

“A soldier! A man against whose brutality none are 
safe—a man who murders young and old, spares neither age 
nor sex, and hurries into eternity, by dashing out their 
brains and cutting their throats, such innocent beings as the 
Master spoke of when he said, ‘Of such is the Kingdom of 
Heaven. ’ 

“Gentlemen, I honor the name of soldier, and I trust that 
when Anton Probst is spoken of hereafter, when his name 
shall have been recorded in the criminal annals of the country, 
the vile, brutal, murderous wretch will be there known, not as 
Anton Probst the soldier, but as Anton Probst the murderer— 
the felon who waded so deep in human blood, that history has 
failed and futurity will fail to produce a fellow to him. ’’ 

After being out only twenty minutes the jury returned a 
verdict of guilty of murder in the first degree. On May ist, 
Hon. Joseph Allison, the presiding judge, in a most eloquent 
and feeling manner, pronounced the death sentence upon 
Anton Probst. 

After his conviction, Probst made two confessions, which 
substantially agreed. The last one was made in the presence 
of the chief of detective of police, and several reporters. It 
was attested by John P. O’Neil and John A. Walbert, the 
prisoner’s attorneys, both of whom were also present. This 
confession tallied closely with the facts as worked out by the 
prosecution, and was undoubtedly substantially true. As it 
furnishes a succinct history of this most remarkable and 
atrocious crime, it is given here, in its entirety. 

“Being desirous of making a full and true confession, I 
request my counsel to take down in writing the particulars of 
my motives, and of the manner attending the murder of the 
Dearing family. Being in bad health, I went to the Alms¬ 
house Hospital on the first of December, A. D. 1865, and, 
suffering for want of money, I, whilst there, conceived the 
design of robbing Mr. Dearing when I should leave the hos¬ 
pital and return to his farm. 


DEARING MASSACRE 


12 I 


“Sometime in the month of February, about the 24th, I 
left the hospital, and returned to the Dearing farm about the 
2d of March. I returned with the view of robbing Dearing, 
and I was constantly watching my opportunity, up to the time 
of the murder; I did get opportunities, but my heart failed me. 

“On the Saturday morning of the murder, about nine 
o’clock, I formed the design of killing the entire family. I 
was in the field by the hay-stack, it was there I made my 
mind up; Cornelius was with me. He was helping me put the 
wood on the cart to take it up to the barn; the axe with 
which I killed him was in the cart. I took the axe from the 
cart, and Cornelius and I went under the tree about one hun¬ 
dred yards below the stack; it was raining a little at the time, 
and we went there for shelter Cornelius sat down, I stood 
up and got behind him; three or four times I attempted to 
strike as he turned his head away, but I could not; at last I 
struck as his face was turned from me; the blow was on the 
left side, over the ear; then he fell over, not speaking a word; 
after he fell over, I gave him some blows on the head—one or 
two, I can’t tell—when I turned the sharp part of the axe 
around, which had been sharpened two days before that for 
cutting the trees'; with it I chopped him in the neck two or 
three times; he bled a great deal here, and I think the blood 
must be on the tree yet; I used the big axe to kill him After 
I killed him I lifted him upon the cart and pulled him over to 
the hay-stack, where I put him in the side away from the 
house, and covered him up with hay; I put the axe in the cart; 
it had blood on it; I went then with the horse and cart to the 
house; this was about ten o’clock. Before I killed Cornelius, 
I looked all around to see if any one was near who could dis¬ 
cover me, but I saw no one. After I had killed Carey, and 
before I started to the house, I threw a little wood on the cart. 

“When I reached the yard, I took the wood off the cart 
and left it with the cart on the side of the machine house; then 
I went in the stable and took with me the big axe, the little 
axe, and the hammer which I fixed there for the purpose of 
killing the family. I put them all at the corner of the door, so 
as they would be handy to me, for I intended to kill all in the 


122 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


stable; there was blood on my pants, which I brushed off as 
well as I could with hay, and after that I went to the house. 
The children, including the baby, were all in the house, but 
Mrs. Dearing was down to the ditch on the left side of the 
house getting water; she had a pail with her. I told Johnny, 
the oldest boy, I wanted him to come over to the stable to help 
me. I went over before him, and he followed right after me. 
Before he came in I picked up the little axe in the right hand 
and concealed it down by my leg and walked down toward the 
crib; John walked behind me until he came to the passage-way 
that leads between the stalls, when he turned into the passage¬ 
way to the left; then I hit him from behind just as he turned; 
he fell down immediately; he never spoke a word; then I 
chopped him in the neck with the sharp end of the axe two 
or three times. I then carried the body over to the crib, and 
laid it there just by the door; when I crept in and pulled the 
body in by the shoulders; I laid it in the corner and covered 
it up with a little hay. I took a little hay then and wiped the 
hatchet off, and laid it down with the hammer and the axe 
where I put them first, on the left-hand side as you go in the 
stable. 

“Then I went to the house again, and told Mrs. Dearing, 
who was then engaged in doing something about the stove, 
that the young horse was loose in the stable, and I could not 
tie it myself, and asked her to come and help me. I then 
went over to the stable; I took the axe as I walked in and 
went down to the place where I killed John. Mrs. Dearing 
followed me in one or two minutes, and walked up to the 
passage-way, where I killed John. As she turned to the 
left to go down I struck her with the axe on the right 
side of the head. She fell outside; John fell inside. I then 
gave her two or three blows on the head, when I turned 
around the sharp part of the axe and chopped her two or 
three times in the neck. I then dragged her to the crib in 
which , the bodies were found, and got her in just like I got 
Johnny in, and covered her up with hay. 

“Then I took the blood off the axe with hay, and put it 
back in the same place with the hammer, I went back to the 


DEARING MASSACRE 


123 


house and told Thomas his mother wanted to see him in the 
stable; he went right over with me and went in the door first; 
I walked behind him and picked up the axe; he walked back 
into the entry till he got within two or three feet this side of 
where I killed the others, when I hit him on the head with the 
little axe, from behind, on the left side; he fell down and I 
gave him one or two more in the head, and I turned the sharp 
side and chopped his throat two or three times; then I 
brought him in the crib like the others and covered his body 
up with hay; I left the little axe in the same place that I 
killed him; I stood it up against the boards; I had no need to 
hide it any more. Then I went in the house again and told 
Annie, ‘Your mother wants to see you over in the stable.’ 
She walked over before me, and I lifted up the little baby and 
carried it over in my arms; Annie went in the stable; I 
walked behind her; she walked right through to the place 
where the others were killed; when I came in I left the little 
baby, and put him sitting up against the board in the corner 
on the left side; then I went over to Annie, picked up the 
little axe, and as she was looking around for her mother I hit 
her on the left side of the head with the axe; then she fell 
down, and I chopped her with the sharp part of the axe. I 
let her lay there, and I went over for the baby, and I brought 
it over on the same place; I stood him down, when I took the 
axe and gave him one on the forehead; he fell; then I took 
the sharp side of the axe and chopped his throat; then I 
carried Annie and the baby both together into the crib, and 
covered them up with hay; then I took the axes and cleaned 
them off with hay. I left the little axe and the hammer in the 
same place; then I took the new axe and washed it in the 
ditch, and brought it over to the house and set it up against 
the bench right outside of the kitchen door; then I went into 
the house, and went into the kitchen; I stayed there and in 
the back room all the time until Mr. Dearing came back; it 
took me, I guess, about half an hour to kill the family, and I 
then went in the house to wait for Mr. Dearing to come home; 
I stayed in the back room and the kitchen all the time. I 
waited there until about one, or half-past one o’clock, when I 


124 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


saw Mr. Dearing coming along the road; I saw Miss Dolan 
was in the wagon with him. 

“I went out and stayed by the kitchen door. He then 
drove in; he came by the Old Point House road; Mr. Dearing 
stepped out of the carriage, and I asked him if he would go 
over in the stable; I told him there was a sick steer there; I 
said, ‘He looks pretty sick, you can tell pretty near; I want 
you to come over and see him.’ He then went right over with 
me in the stable, and Miss Dolan went into the house; this 
was before the horse was taken from the carriage; he left the 
horse and wagon stand there; he walked sharp over in the 
stable, and I walked behind him; he went in the stable, and I 
picked up the axe in my hand from the corner where I left it; 
I walked behind him to the middle of the stable; I struck him 
one on the head on the left side with the small axe; he fell 
right down on his face; he did not speak; I then turned him 
over, gave him two more, when I cut him with the sharp edge 
of the axe in the throat; I put a little hay over him and went out 
of the stable. Miss Dolan stood outside the house and hal¬ 
looed for me; she said: ‘Anton, come put the horse out.’ I 
said: ‘Mr. Dearing wants to see you in the stable.’ She had 
been in the house and taken her things off; she took them 
upstairs, and laid them on the bed; she then went over about 
half-way; she asked me, ‘Where is Mrs. Dearing and the chil¬ 
dren?’ I told her: ‘They are all over in the stable.’ She 
then walked in the stable and I walked behind her; I then 
took the hammer, the little axe was in the corner where I left 
it after killing Dearing; when she was in five or six feet I 
knocked her down by hitting her on the right side of the head 
with the hammer; she fell on her face like Mr. Dearing. 
When she fell down I turned her around quick and gave her 
one more with the hammer, then I took the little axe and cut 
her throat; I chopped her three times, I guess. Then I shut 
the door; then I went and put the hay from Mr. Dearing and 
took his watch and his pocketbook; then I put them in my 
pocket; then I went and looked what Miss Dolan had; I found 
a pocketbook in her pocket, and I put it in my pocket. 

“I then took Mr, Dearing by the shoulders and dragged 


DEARING MASSACRE 


125 


him over to the corner where he was found; then I took Miss 
Dolan the same way and laid her beside him and covered them 
up with hay. Then I went out of the stable and shut the 
door, and went over to the carriage, took the gears off the 
horse and put him in the stable; I gave him plenty of hay, 
oats and corn. I then shut the stable door and went over to 
the house and put the wagon beside the shed; then I went in 
the house and looked how much money I got; I looked first 
in Dearing’s pocketbook, and I found ten dollars in green¬ 
backs, two two-dollar notes and one three-dollar note, that was 
the counterfeit note they had at the court; the two-dollar 
notes were counterfeits; I got all the money from the big 
pocketbook and left it at the house; then I looked in Miss 
Dolan’s pocketbook and there was not one cent in it, but 
there was some postage stamps; I left the money and 
watches and pocketbook on the table, and fastened the door 
of the house; then I went upstairs and looked every place for 
money. 

“I found a pocketbook in the bed; there was three dollars 
and sixty or sixty-five cents; this was in Mr. Dearing’s bed; I 
found them two revolvers that were in court in the same bed 
under the ticking; I took them downstairs, and I went up¬ 
stairs again, and looked all over in every place. I could find 
no more money; then I took three shirts, and a pair of pants, 
and took them downstairs and dressed myself in the back 
room. I washed myself before this in the kitchen, in a basin. 

“I shaved myself with Mr. Dearing’s razors, the same as 
were in the carpet-bag; I took all my beard off; this was 
before I washed myself; I dressed myself in Mr. Dearing’s 
shirt and pants, then I ate some bread and butter, and then I 
went upstairs again, and looked all over for something, and 
took all the things that I got in my carpet-bag; then I rolled 
up my bloody clothes and put them under the blanket on my 
bed where I slept; then I went downstairs and stayed’ there, 
and fed the dogs and chickens and everything with the salt 
beef. 

“I fed the chickens with oats and corn; I then went in the 
house and stayed there thinking it all over; I thought what I 


126 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


should do after killing so many people, and got so little money. 
I waited then for the evening; I went upstairs a couple of 
times more looking for money, but got no more than I have 
stated. About six and a half o’clock I left, having shut fast 
all the doors and one window on the south side, and got out 
through the front window on the porch; I then went through 
the meadow to the house where he kept the cattle, and opened 
the door so as the cattle could get in and eat some hay, as 
there was plenty there; I then came to the city by Jones’ lane; 
one of the dogs came with me; he would not leave me; he 
followed me to Third Street; then I got into one of the Third 
street cars and saw the dog no more; he would not leave me 
till I got into the car; I got off the cars at Callowhill street 
and walked to New Market, and went to Leckfeldt; he, in his 
testimony on the trial, told what took place there. 

“I next went’to Hoover’s in Front Street, and stayed there 
about half an hour; then I went to the Germantown road to a 
lager beer saloon, remained there about three hours, and 
returned to Hoover’s, where I remained all night. The testi¬ 
mony given on trial as to my whereabouts was correct. 

“When I was arrested I was making my way to the 
country; I had no particular place, but thought the best way 
to escape was by West Philadelphia. The reason why I said 
that I had an accomplice was because I was afraid of being 
lynched and that the police force could not save me. 

“My only motive was money. I killed the boy so as he 
could not tell on me; I killed the two oldest children so as 
they wo'uld not afterwards identify me; I killed the two 
youngest, as I did not wish to leave them in the house alone 
without some one to care for them; I had no ill feeling to any 
one of the family; Cornelius and I were good friends. 

“I had no accomplice, and I desire no one to be accused of 
the crime; I named one as Ganther, because I had heard fre¬ 
quently that name in the army; I never committed murder 
before, nor had I ever stolen a cent from any one. 

“After I killed the boy, my mind was so that I would have 
killed any one who would have come upon the farm, and from 
whom I’d fear detection. I acknowledge the justness of my 


DEARING MASSACRE 


127 


fate, and feel sorry for iny crime, but bad company and bad 
habits led me step by step to the foulest of all crimes. 

“The above confession is made with the full knowledge of 
my approaching execution, and contains nothing but what is 
absolutely true. “Anton Probst.” 

Probst was executed on June 8, 1866. He met his fate with 
almost the personification of resignation. The officials who 
carried into effect the sentence of the court, the attorneys in 
the case, the attendant clergyman and the legal witnesses all 
agreed in declaring that Probst died with every appearance of 
willingness. He announced that he actually longed for the 
hour to come when his life was to be taken. That he was 
sincere in these protestations, can hardly be doubted. He had 
made two full and complete confessions in which he set forth 
his hideous crime without the smallest effort at palliation 
or excuse. That he would die speaking or acting a deliberate 
lie seems highly improbable, since he had nothing to 
gain by it. 

The execution was one of the most orderly ever reported. 
The sheriff officiated in person, instead of thrusting the dis¬ 
agreeable task upon one of his younger subordinates, as is 
usually the case. The body was delivered to the Jefferson 
School of Medicine for dissection. The mounted skeleton 
may still be seen in the museum of the college. 

In the outset we asked how such a case was to be classified, 
and the answer is exceedingly difficult to give. The motive 
was clearly cupidity. Mr. Dearing often had in his possession 
considerable sums of money belonging to his partner in the 
cattle-buying business, which he used, very imprudently, to 
count in the presence of his hired man. Probst himself says 
that this excited his cupidity, and that he returned there the 
second time with the one idea of stealing money. Unable to 
secure it in the manner he had first planned, the idea of mur¬ 
der presented itself to his mind. This he probably combated 
for a time, though doubtless at the first suggestion he knew in 
his heart that he would carry it into execution. Ghastly and 
brutal as it was, his plan of procedure showed considerable 
ingenuity, and in no other way, probably, could he have 


128 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


accomplished such a wholesale slaughter without an alarm 
being given. 

Although these terrible crimes were committed from 
motives of cupidity, the existence of the homicidal impulse is 
clearly manifest. In his confession he says: “I returned with 
the view of robbing Dearing, and I was constantly watching 
my opportunity, up to the time of the murder; I did get 
opportunities, but my heart failed me.” If he had not the 
heart to rob his friend and benefactor, how did he acquire the 
disposition and courage to kill him and his entire family as a 
preliminary to theft, if not from the operation of this fiendish 
impulse? It is seen in his plan, outlined in his mind to the most 
minute details, in forming which he appears to have experi¬ 
enced a sort of diabolical pleasure; in the circumstance that, 
he slew an infant whose life he might, with perfect safety to 
himself, have spared, and in his own statement that after he 
had killed young Carey, he would willingly have taken the 
lives of any and all who presented themselves. He seems to 
have become almost literally intoxicated with crime, and to 
have fairly gloated over the flow of blood. If ever the devil 
took possession of a human being, he entered into the heart of 
Anton Probst and urged him on to the awful deed. In his 
confession, the’ murderer claimed that he had never stolen 
anything. When it is remembered that he was a “bounty- 
jumper,” one of the most despicable kind of thieves, it is evi¬ 
dent that Probst’s ideas of honesty were of a somewhat 
peculiar kind. 

That a sane man, as Probst undoubtedly was, without 
reaching the climax of crime by a long series of criminal 
indulgences, should have deliberately committed such a deed, 
almost surpasses human belief, and suggests that he was the 
victim of some form of moral disease, if such a condition be 
indeed possible. 

Probst declared that he expected to be arrested and felt 
relieved in a manner when he found himself within the strong 
grasp of the law. This is not at all unlikely. He had spent 
the paltry pittance for which he had sacrificed eight lives, his 
impulse to kill had been satiated, and a revulsion of feeling 


iY.Yi.il*... ■■■■« v— „, . ■ ., „ „ ,- .-._-.-. .:_iSHHHIl 



THE HEARING MASSACRE; I’ROBST AT WORK.—PAGE 123 




































































































































































































































druse murder 


129 


might well have been anticipated. His final repentance and 
ardent profession of religion, were likewise in the same line. 
That he died believing himself a Christian, seems certain, yet 
whether his reformation would have proved permanent, had 
he been permitted to live, may well be doubted. That he did 
not long maintain the fearful malice that swayed his heart on 
that eventful 7th day of April, would seem to argue that the 
opposite emotions would have proved of brief duration. 

His repentance is the only thing that removes him from the 
category of total depravity. Taken for all in all, this volume, 
which deals with homicide, does not contain a more complete 
instance of an abandoned heart. 

Anton Probst was led to commit the most atrocious crimes 
of the century through the indulgence of his lowest passions. 
In his confession he ascribes his awful downfall to bad habits 
and evil company. If there be implanted within the heart of 
every son of Adam, as seems quite probable, a germ which 
may be released from the shell where it lies encysted and 
drive one to murder, we cannot be too careful how we indulge 
those passions that weaken the forces which hold it in control. 

As already suggested, many homicides are committed as a 
result of motives so commingled and confused as hardly to be 
subject to classification. Other murders must be charged to 
motives which, while clear and distinct, not only do not fall 
within the brief category we have given, but seem entirely 
inadequate to account for the commission of the crime. In 
such cases, a careful analysis will usually show that the visible 
and definable motive was vigorously reinforced, if not abso¬ 
lutely supplanted, by the presence and uncontrolled action of 
the homicidal impulse. Such an instance occurred in Herki¬ 
mer county, New York, in the latter part of 1889. In atrocity, 
it almost equals the case of Anton Probst, and bears a marked 
resemblance to that of Dr. Webster, so far as the means 
employed to dispose of the body were concerned. 

Near the city of Little Falls, New York, amid scenes of the 
picturesque beauty presented by the romantic defile through 
which the historic Mohawk tumbles noisily down, there lived, 
in 1889, a family named Druse. It consisted of four members; 


130 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


John Druse, the husband and father, Roxana, his wife, Mary, 
a daughter of about twenty, and a son of eleven or twelve 
years. The family occupied a small tract of land of little 
value, and were in moderate circumstances. John Druse was 
a man quite advanced in life, being nearly seventy years of 
age and the senior of his wife by some twenty-five years. 
Without being absolutely feeble, he was by no meaus vigorous, 
but was able to do some work. In the fall of the year there 
was little to be done upon the place, but he attended to the 
stock, and was almost constantly seen busying himself about 
the little farm. He had lived there for many years, and was 
quite widely known and universally well liked and respected. 
This feeling on the part of the neighbors did not extend to 
his wife, Roxana, who was a woman of low antecedents, and 
exceedingly disagreeable temperament. She was the absolute 
ruler of the household, and held her husband in a state of 
subjection amounting at times to absolute terror. Without 
being an idiot, Mary, the daughter, was feeble-minded, 
although well understanding the distinction between right and 
wrong. The little boy was possessed of ordinary intelligence. 

The section where the Druse family lived was divided up 
into small holdings, and hence rather thickly populated. 
Early in November of the year mentioned, some of the neigh¬ 
bors noticed that the Druse house, a small structure, was kept 
tightly closed, in marked contrast to its usual appearance. At 
the same time, dense masses of black smoke were seen issuing 
from the chimney. This continued for two days, and, coupled 
with the circumstance that Mr. Druse was not seen about the 
premises, led to considerable speculation and not a little 
gossip among the farmers in the vicinity. At length some of 
the bolder, or more inquisitive, of the neighbors, repaired to 
the house and questioned Mrs. Druse as to the whereabouts of 
her husband. She answered all questions readily, and without 
the smallest appearance of embarrassment. She declared 
that he had gone on a visit to certain relatives of his in a dis¬ 
tant part of the State. Questioned as to the time of his 
expected return, Roxana said she did not know; he would 
stay some time, and very possibly might not return at all. 


DRUSE MURDER 


131 

This did not at all satisfy the inquisitors, but rather tended to 
increase their suspicions that something was wrong. John 
Druse had often mentioned these relatives, and a letter was 
written to them asking about him. A reply was soon 
received, answering that the missing man was not with his 
relatives and had not been heard from by them. 

This information greatly increased the excitement in the 
neighborhood. The authorities were not communicated with, 
but certain individuals took the matter in hand and began an 
investigation. The little son of Roxana Druse was inter* 
viewed at length, and told enough to indicate clearly that a 
brutal crime had been perpetrated by his mother and sister. 
Warrants were procured and the two women locked up in the 
county jail. Upon her arrest, Mary Druse made a clean 
breast of the affair, and told of a crime whose details sickened 
the auditors, and the recollection of which still causes the 
people of the Mohawk valley to shudder with horror. 

According to her story, which was never contradicted and 
was substantiated by that of her brother, Roxana Druse had 
grown weary of her husband. He was an amiable man, who 
had always treated her with the greatest kindness, but he was 
no longer very useful, and she foresaw that approaching age 
would soon render him entirely dependent upon his family for 
support. That she had come to personally dislike, if not 
positively hate, him, is probable, though this was largely 
problematical, since, from the day of her arrest until her 
death, she absolutely refused to speak a single word upon the 
subject. John Druse had been killed by his wife. The deed 
was done in the house and in the presence of her daughter, 
her son being at the time in another apartment. As he was 
in the act of entering a little pantry she came up behind him 
and struck him on the head with an axe, killing him instantly. 
She then proceeded, with fiendish coolness, to sever the head 
from the body, employing the axe for that purpose. On the 
trial of his mother and sister, the little boy testified that he 
saw his father’s severed head resting on a platter in the 
pantry. All this, and what was to follow, was not the result 
of a sudden passion, but had been deliberately planned by the 


132 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


depraved woman, who had discussed the matter with Mary for 
days and weeks before the plan was carried into execution. 

The inhuman deed accomplished, the two women lost no 
time in carrying into effect their carefully matured scheme 
for disposing of the remains. And here the author would 
pause in the recital of this horrible crime to suggest that, in 
his own personal experience, as well as that of many others, it 
very frequently happens that homicides are detected through 
the unusual methods employed to hide from sight the remains 
of the murdered person. In this a devilish ingenuity is often 
exercised, which seems to argue that the parties concocting 
the plans had derived a certain pleasure from the operation. 
As already suggested, there is a peculiar though gruesome 
fascination about the details of murder mysteries, and, in the 
author’s opinion, this often possesses the perpetrator of crime 
and leads him to exercise his inventive faculties that he may 
do something altogether out of the ordinary, when far safer, 
because simpler, means were available. But to return to the 
case in hand. 

“Put on the wash boiler and fill it with water,” was the 
command of the Jezebel-like woman, when she had completed 
the first act of the fearful tragedy. To clean up the blood¬ 
stains, the reader will think, and see nothing strange or 
unreasonable in that. To do that, probably, but principally to 
boil the body of the poor old man. Following their pre¬ 
arranged plan of procedure, the two women, under the man¬ 
agement of the elder and dominating one, proceeded to 
dismember the body and place it in a large tin boiler. Here 
it was kept above a heavy fire until thoroughly cooked. This 
accomplished, it was removed and burned piecemeal in the 
kitchen stove, the old woman’s idea being that the process of 
boiling would reduce to a minimum the odor of the burning 
flesh and bones. The consummation of this horrid plan occu¬ 
pied two full days, during which time the doors and windows 
of the farm-house were kept tightly closed. In the meantime, 
the tell-tale smoke and sickening smell were arousing the very 
suspicibns the guilty woman hoped to avoid. The axe with 
which the deed was committed was found in a pond, where 


DRUSE MURDER 


i33 


Mary reported it had been thrown. The head was not 
burned, Roxana claiming that it would be unsafe to do so lest 
the odor of the burning hair might attract attention. She 
disposed of it herself, and as she refused to speak on the sub¬ 
ject and Mary had not been told what was done with it, it was 
never discovered. 

Practically no defense was offered, and the two women 
were promptly convicted. Mary Druse received a life sen¬ 
tence, and her mother was executed. She maintained a 
sphinx-like silence and ascended the scaffold with the same 
horrid composure she had employed while murdering her hus¬ 
band and disposing of his dead body by methods which, taken 
altogether, are almost without a parallel in the history of 
crime, and were hardly surpassed by the horrid acts of Luet- 
gert, the sausage-maker. 

This case is peculiar by reason of the absence of all those 
motives, some of which are usually present in all homicides. 
Roxana Druse had not led a criminal life, and no special 
wrong-doing had ever been charged against her up to the dis¬ 
covery of this most unnatural act, though her antecedents 
were bad. That she was possessed of the homicidal impulse, 
cannot be questioned. Undoubtedly, it was this that rein¬ 
forced and supported her otherwise weak motive for putting 
her husband out of the way. Her method of concealing the 
crime makes strongly in the same direction. Had she sent the 
boy away, killed the old man and buried him carefully at 
night, giving out to the neighbors that he had left home as the 
result of a quarrel, declaring that he would never return, her 
dark deed might have gone undetected. Doubtless this plain, 
matter-of-fact method suggested itself to her morbid and per¬ 
verted mind, but was rejected for one containing elements of 
unnatural excitement, from which she expected to derive posi¬ 
tive pleasure. That her daughter became her willing tool 
and accomplice, is not at all surprising, since she may fairly 
be supposed to have inherited the natural disposition and 
homicidal impulse of her mother. Roxana Druse was disliked 
by her neighbors and acquaintances, yet among them all not 
one imagined her capable of the fiendish act she was clearly 


134 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


proven to have committed. But all the time the germ was 
present, and a very insignificant motive served to suddenly 
develop it to a point where it became a most potent power for 
evil. 

It seems not unlikely that in this case, the novel method 
for disposing of the body may have first suggested the crime 
to the mind of the depraved woman. Having heard, or con¬ 
ceived, the theory that boiled flesh gives out little odor when 
burned, it may have preyed upon her until it became an 
almost irresistible attraction, all-powerful by reason of its very 
gruesomeness. Such a conclusion presupposes the absence of 
all moral sensibility, coupled with. a strong predisposition to 
take human life, which conditions were doubtless present in 
the miserable woman referred to. It is no answer to this 
suggestion to say that it means a reversal of ordinary methods 
of thought and action, for it applies only to those who are 
thoroughly perverted and depraved. 


CHAPTER IX 


CUPIDITY—BURKING—MAXWELL-PRELLER CASE 

The term “burking” was derived from the name of William 
Burke, to whom belongs the awful notoriety of originating the 
business—we use the word business, for it became a veritable 
trade—of murdering human beings that he might dispose of 
their bodies as “subjects” for dissection in medical colleges. 
A more despicable calling than this could hardly be invented, 
or even conceived. The discovery of a long series of homi¬ 
cides, committed for this purpose, threw the civilized world 
into a state of horror and excitement and identified the name 
of the wretch with a crime, no instance of which has been 
brought to light within recent years. * 

The horrible events we are called upon to chronicle 
occurred in Edinburgh, in the year 1828. The residents of 
the metropolis of Scotland had long been greatly exercised 
over the sudden disappearance of people occupying the lower 
walks of life, of whom not the slightest trace was afterwards 
obtainable. Tramps, with whom Scotland was well supplied, 
appeared in Edinburgh, attracted for a few days the attention 
of the police and disappeared, without apparent reason, and as 
effectually as if they had been sunk in the ocean. Irish hay¬ 
makers and farm laborers, on their way to work in the agri¬ 
cultural districts of the Lowlands, often vanished from the 
sight of their companions in Edinburgh, and no amount of 
searching revealed a trace of them. These people were all 
poor, many of them entirely penniless, and robbery could not 
have been the motive of their murder, if indeed they had been 
killed. The case that excited the widest and deepest interest 
was the disappearance from his accustomed haunts of a poor 
idiot, called Daft Jamie, who was widely known in the city. 

135 


136 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


As is quite well understood, the Scotch people have a soft 
place in their hearts for those who have been deprived of their 
just share of intelligence, and never molest or annoy, but 
always aid and encourage an idiot, or feeble-minded person. 
This incident aroused universal interest, revived the numer¬ 
ous stories of mysterious disappearances, and put the police 
upon a little more diligent inquiry.. 

Not long after this became public, toward the close of 
October, 1828, an Irish beggar, named Mary Campbell, who 
had long frequented certain localities, was suddenly missed. 
Although a poor woman, she had some friends who instituted 
an inquiry. At that time, as now, Edinburgh was justly 
celebrated for the excellence of the anatomical instruction 
furnished by its medical colleges, and a search was made among 
the various dissecting rooms of the city. Her remains were 
speedily found in the apartments of Dr. Knox, a distinguished 
anatomist, and were positively identified. An investigation 
by medical experts, as to the cause of her death, led to the 
conclusion that she had died from suffocation, which rendered 
it fairly certain that she had been murdered, since suffocation 
is rarely the cause of natural death. 

The next step was to ascertain the person from whom the 
body had been purchased. At that time there was no legal 
provision by which subjects for dissection could be secured. 
Occasionally the remains of those executed were directed to be 
turned over to some medical college, but this afforded a very 
uncertain and entirely inadequate source of supply. This had 
led to, or at least greatly stimulated, the stealing of bodies, a 
practice openly encouraged by the professors of anatomy who 
had no other means of supplying the pressing demand. The 
long wars in which Great Britain had been engaged being 
terminated, an impetus was given to professional education, 
and the demand for subjects increased until it could not be 
supplied. Resurrectionists were everywhere busy, and yet 
students were often obliged to wait months for an oppor¬ 
tunity to do their dissecting, without which they were not 
permitted to graduate. 

For the successful practice of “burking” by its originator 


# 


CUPIDITY—BURKING 


137 


and his accomplices, the medical men of Edinburgh were, no 
doubt, largely to blame. So eager were they to secure bodies 
that they asked no questions and made no very deep scrutiny as 
to how the one offered had been deprived of life. The defense 
of the doctors was that men who would steal bodies would 
lie, and hence there was no use in questioning them. 

In the case of Mary Campbell, no difficulty was experi¬ 
enced in locating the person who had furnished the body. 
The porter of Doctor Knox, a man named Patterson, was 
well acquainted with William Burke, and a seeming partner of 
his named Hare, from whom the body had been secured, and 
from whom he had purchased many others. He stated that 
on November 1st, he had gone by appointment to a house 
occupied by Burke, in a low street. Here he met a Mrs. 
McDougal, who passed as the wife of Burke, and a Mrs. Laird, 
who was known as the wife of PI are. They had shown him 
the body of the mendicant, hidden under some straw, and he 
had purchased it, paying five pounds down and promising 
three pounds more if it turned out satisfactory. 

As soon as the four people were arrested, a man named 
Gray, and his wife, poor people who were only temporarily in 
the city, called upon the police and made statements of a char¬ 
acter most damaging to the accused persons. They had 
stopped at Burke’s miserable quarters for the night, and had 
seen the entire party drinking and dancing together. In the 
morning they saw the dead body of Mrs. Campbell, and, 
terror-stricken, quitted the premises. The human trap—for 
it was nothing else—consisted of two rooms. Burke let out his 
dilapidated lodgings to such as were able to pay, and thus 
secured an opportunity to murder tUose he deemed fitted for 
the purpose, provided they were strangers in the city. In all 
this he was ably seconded by Hare, who seemed to have been 
fully as detestable as himself. When Hare found that the 
authorities had secured much evidence against the entire party 
he offered to make disclosures that would send his accomplice 
to the gallows, provided he was insured immunity from pun¬ 
ishment. After some delay, the authorities decided to permit 
Hare to turn king’s evidence, it being doubtful if they would 


138 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


be able to secure a conviction against any of the accused 
unless this was done. Mrs. Laird was shown to have had no 
guilty connection with the matter, and she was discharged 
from custody. 

On December 23, 1829, William Burke and Helen 

McDougal were put on trial for the murder of Mary Campbell, 
before the High Court of Justiciary, in Edinburgh. No trial 
during the present century, with the possible exception of 
that of William Palmer, has excited the people of Great Britain 
as this one did. The inhabitants of Edinburgh were almost 
frenzied and extra precautions were necessarily taken to pre¬ 
vent a jail-breaking and lynching. Hare lived up to his side 
of the bargain, and testified fully and completely. Mary 
Campbell had been suffocated by Burke, he declared. He 
entered into the most minute details of this and other cases. 
From the best evidence that could be obtained from Hare and 
the subsequent confession of Burke, it appears that they must 
have murdered and sold the bodies of at least thirty people. 
Some of the murders were committed in Burke’s rooms, but 
generally they were perpetrated in the premises—literally a 
den—occupied by Hare. It appeared that Mrs. McDougal was 
never actually present when a murder was committed, and a 
“Scotch verdict’’ of “not proven” was entered in her case. 
Upon her release, she presented herself in her old haunts in 
the slums of Edinburgh, but being recognized, was set upon 
by the populace, and barely escaped with her life. After that 
she quitted the city, and was never again heard of. 

Burke was convicted and sentenced to death. Then the 
question of releasing Hare arose, and was warmly discussed. 
The public of the entire kingdom clamored for his trial and 
death, but the court officers decided that they must stand by 
their bargain and give him immunity. When Hare learned 
that he was to be set free he exulted in the most extravagant 
manner, and nearly died from the effects of his emotions. It 
was known that if publicly released from the prison he would 
be torn in pieces by the enraged populace, so, after repeated 
consultations on the part of the authorities, he was allowed 
to quit the jail and the city unobserved. Like his many 


CUPIDITY—BURKING 


i39 


victims, he disappeared from view and was never heard of 
afterwards. 

After his conviction and sentence, Burke made a full and 
complete confession, which agreed in most particulars with 
the story told by Hare, and was doubtless substantially correct. 
Although of a revolting character, this account would hardly 
be complete without something touching the methods pursued 
by these inhuman wretches. We present the confession of 
Burke, substantially as given by Camden Pelham, Esq., bar¬ 
rister at law, in his report of this remarkable case. 

Being asked how, having once been under religious influ¬ 
ences and impressions, he had ever formed the idea of such 
cold-blooded, systematic murders, Burke replied that he did 
not exactly know: but that, becoming addicted to drink, living 
in open adultery and associating continually with the most 
abandoned characters, he gradually became hardened and 
desperate, gave up attending chapel or any place of religious 
worship, shunned the face of a priest, and being constantly 
familiar with every species of wickedness, he at length grew 
indifferent as to what he did, and was ready to commit any 
crime. 

He was asked how long he had been engaged in this 
murderous traffic, to which he answered, “From Christmas^ 
1827, till the murder of the woman Campbell in October last.” 
“How many persons have you murdered, or been concerned in 
murdering, during this time? Were they thirty in all?” 
“Not so many; not so many, I assure you.” “How many?” 
He answered this question, but the answer was, for a reason 
perfectly satisfactory, reserved. 

“Had you any accomplices?” “None but Hare; we always 
took care when we were going to commit murder that no one 
else should be present, that no one could swear he saw the 
deed done. The women might suspect what we were about, 
but we always put them out of the way when we were going 
to do it. They never saw us commit any of the murders. One 
of the murders was done in Broggan’s house when he was out; 
but before he returned, the thing was finished, and the body 
put in a box. Broggan evidently suspected something, for he 


140 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


appeared much agitated and entreated us to take the box 
away, but he was in no way connected with it. ’ * 

“You have already told me that you were engaged in these 
atrocities from Christmas, 1827, till the end of October, 1828; 
were you associated with Hare all that time?” “Yes, we 

began by selling to Dr.-the body of a woman who had 

died a natural death in Hare’s house. We got ten pounds for 
it. After this we began the murders, and all the rest of the 
bodies we sold to him were murdered. ’ ’ 

“In what place were those murders generally committed?’’ 
“They were mostly committed in Hare’s house, which was 
very convenient for the purpose, as it consisted of a room and 
a kitchen; Daft Jamie was murdered there; the story told of 
his murder is incorrect. Hare began to struggle with him, 
and they fell and rolled together on the floor; then I went to 
Hare’s assistance, and we finished him, though with much 
difficulty. I committed one murder in the country,; it was in 
last harvest; all the rest were done in conjunction with 
Hare.’’ 

“By what means were these fearful atrocities perpetrated?” 
“By suffocation. We made the persons drunk, and then 
suffocated them by holding the nostrils and mouth, and get¬ 
ting on the body; sometimes I held the mouth and nose, while 
Hare knelt upon the body; and sometimes Hare did the hold¬ 
ing while I placed myself upon the body. Hare has perjured 
himself by what he said at the trial about the murder of 
Campbell, he did not sit by while I did it, as he says, but was 
on the body, assisting me with all his might. We sometimes 
used a pillow, but did not in this case.” 

“Now, Burke, answer me this question; were you tutored 
or instructed, or did you receive hints from any one, as to the 
mode of committing murder?’’ “No, except from Hare. We 
often spoke about it, and agreed that suffocation was the best 
way; Hare said so, and I agreed with him. We generally did 
it by suffocation.*’ 

“Did you receive any encouragement to commit, or perse¬ 
vere in committing these atrocities?” “Yes, we were fre¬ 
quently told by Patterson that he would take as many bodies 



CUPIDITY—BURKING 


141 

as we could get for him. When we got one, he always told us 
to get more.” 

“To whom were the bodies so murdered sold?” “To 

Dr.-. We took the bodies to his rooms, and then went to 

his house to receive the money for them. Sometimes he paid 
us himself, sometimes we were paid by his assistants. No 
questions were ever asked as to the mode in which we had 
come by the bodies. We had nothing to do but leave the body 
at his rooms and go and get the money.” 

“Did you ever, upon any occasion, sell a body or bodies to 
any other lecturer in this place?” “Never. We knew no 
other.” 

“You have been a resurrectionist, I understand?” “No, 
neither Hare nor myself ever got a body from a churchyard. 
All we sold were murdered, save the first one, which was that 
of the woman who died a natural death in Hare’s house. We 
began with that; our crimes then commenced. The victims 
we selected were generally elderly people. They could be 
more easily disposed of than persons in the vigor of youth.” 

Of the truth of these monstrous disclosures there cannot be 
the smallest doubt. The general impression in Edinburgh 
was that in the beginning Burke had been a dupe of Hare’s, 
who had practiced the same horrid trade before the two fell 
into companionship. It was this idea that made the people so 
frantic at Hare’s escape. 

Burke was executed on Wednesday, January 28, 1829. He 
was hooted by the populace while on the scaffold, and seemed 
anxious that the hanging be hurried that he might escape 
what must have been a fearful torture. Before his death he 
professed great contrition for his numerous crimes. 

The fearful crimes of Burke and Hare were not without 
some compensation to the world. Burke was executed on 
January 28th, and on the 12th of the following month notice 
was given that the whole matter was to be brought before the 
House of Commons. This movement raised a veritable storm 
and the subject filled the newspapers to the exclusion of 
almost everything else. After much discussion the matter 
was permitted to rest in abeyance until the latter part of 1831, 



142 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


when a similar occurrence again aroused the nation. This 
was in London. It had long been believed that such horrid 
things were done in that city, but no well authenticated 
instance of it had ever been brought to light. 

On the 5th of November, 1831, William Hill, the porter at 
the dissecting room of King’s College, London, answered a 
ring at the bell, and found two men at the door who said that 
they had a body to sell. These men, as afterwards appeared, 
were John Bishop and James May. After some dickering as 
to the price, the two men went away, but soon returned with 
a sack which contained the body of a boy about fourteen 
years of age. Hill noticed that it was fresh, that the hands 
were clenched, and that it had, in all probability, never been 
placed in a coffin. Hill saw Mr. Partridge, the demonstrator 
of anatomy, who decided that the men should be arrested. 
They were detained while change for a fifty pound note was 
obtained. In the meantime the police were sent for, and the 
two men taken into custody. A man named Thomas Williams 
was at once implicated in the affair, and the three were 
placed on trial. The evidence was very full and complete, 
leaving no apparent doubt as to the guilt of the three men, 
and they were convicted and sentenced to death. 

After their conviction, Bishop and Williams made a full 
confession which exonerated May from any share in the 
murder. There had been elements of weakness in the case 
made against him, and he was accordingly released. The 
news almost cost him his life. He fell to the ground and 
was seized with convulsions. It was thought that he would 
surely die, but he finally recovered. The two guilty wretches 
admitted that they had murdered the boy. They had 
decoyed him to the house of Williams with the promise of 
giving him work. Having rendered him insensible by giving 
him a cup of rum, into which had been poured a quantity of 
laudanum, they took him into the yard, tied a rope to his feet 
and slid him into a well, where he was speedily drowned. 
In about three-quarters of an hour they drew the body out. 
The next morning, May came in and they all began drinking 
together. May was induced to go with Bishop to dispose of 


MAXWELL-PRELLER CASE 


M3 


the body. He seems to have had no knowledge that a crime 
had been committed, and was to receive no portion of the 
price, except repayment for the amount he had expended for 
liquor. 

The two men confessed that they had murdered two other 
persons and sold their bodies for dissection. One, a woman 
named Fanny Pigburn, they killed in identically the same 
manner as they had the boy for whose murder they were 
convicted. They also murdered, for the same awful purpose, 
a boy named Cunningham. They adopted the same methods 
they had employed with the woman and the other boy. 
Bishop admitted that he had been a “body-snatcher” for 
twelve years, during which time he had disposed of from five 
hundred to one thousand stolen bodies, but that the three 
murders were all he had ever committed. May had been a 
“resurrectionist” for years, but seems to have been innocent 
of murder. 

Bishop and Williams, the latter’s real name being Head, 
were executed.December 5, 1831. It was estimated that fully 
thirty thousand people had assembled to witness the act. 
The pressure was so great that many people were injured, 
some of them severely. Upward of twenty were carried to 
one hospital before half-past seven o’clock in the morning. 

It was believed by the authorities that Bishop and Williams 
did not confess the full enormity of their crimes, and that 
many more murders could have rightly been laid to their 
charge. The number, however, was amply sufficient to 
arouse the nation, and Parliament speedily enacted a law by 
which unclaimed bodies in public institutions might be turned 
over to the anatomists for purposes of dissection. This at 
once solved the problem, “burking” disappeared, and “body- 
snatching” is almost unknown in Great Britain. 

About the first of April, 1885, two men, young, intellectual 
looking, well dressed, and presenting in every regard a most 
respectable and prepossessing appearance, separately entered 
the Southern Hotel, St. Louis, and registered under the 
names of C. Arthur Preller and W. H. Lennox Maxwell. 
During the two weeks that they remained guests of the hotel, 


144 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


they were much together, frequently inquired after each other 
and appeared to be on terms of the closest intimacy. All that 
the hotel people knew about them was obtained from Max¬ 
well, who informed one of the clerks that Preller and himself 
were on their way to Auckland, New Zealand. 

On Monday, April 15th, following Easter Sunday, Maxwell 
paid his bill and quitted the hotel. On the same day Preller 
disappeared. He had not paid his bill or surrendered his 
room, but this occasioned neither alarm nor suspicion. All 
hotel men know that guests, especially young men, are liable 
to absent themselves from their hotels, sometimes for days 
together; besides, Preller had every appearance of being 
possessed of wealth; he had displayed quite a sum of money, 
and had ample baggage in the house to secure the payment of 
his indebtedness. Several days passed without any suspicion 
being aroused. At length some of the guests and employes 
noticed a sickening odor which seemed to emanate from the 
room the absent man had occupied, and where his effects still 
remained. The door being opened, it was apparent that the 
stench proceeded from a large zinc trunk which stood in one 
corner of the apartment. It was at once carried downstairs 
and forced open. A glance convinced the horrified searchers 
that it was a case for the police. It contained the body of a 
man which was subsequently, though not without difficulty, 
identified as that of the missing guest, C. Arthur Preller. 

The corpse, which was in an advanced stage of decomposi¬ 
tion, was entirely nude, with the exception of an under gar¬ 
ment, attached to which was a scrap of paper bearing in a 
bold, though apparently disguised hand, the words: “So 
perish all traitors to the great cause.” A careful examination 
of the remains revealed no marks of violence, and, as it was 
evidently a case of murder, the conclusion reached by the 
police was that death had resulted from the administration of 
poison. 

As a matter of course, but one theory could be entertained 
as to the identity of the murderer. The dead man’s traveling 
companion at once fell under a suspicion, amounting almost 
to a certainty, that he was the man wanted. Maxwell had 


MAXWELL-PRELLER CASE 


MS 

several days’ start of the officers, but, acting on the suggestion 
he had himself made that he and his comrade were bound for 
New Zealand, they at once communicated with the authorities 
in San Francisco, who instituted an immediate search, and, 
from the description that had been wired, speedily traced 
him to a hotel, where he had posed as a Frenchman, and regis¬ 
tered under an assumed name. He had declined to converse 
in the French language, and this had raised suspicions against 
him. Further inquiry developed the fact that, under his 
assumed name, he had purchased a steerage ticket for Auck¬ 
land, New Zealand. Upon the arrival of the vessel at 
Auckland, he was arrested and held to await the arrival of 
officers from St. Louis, who fully identified and brought him 
back to this country. 

Upon his arrival in St. Louis, he strenuously denied that 
he was Maxwell, and maintained, as he had done in San 
Francisco, that he was a Frenchman. His accent, which was 
unmistakably Scotch, gave the lie to this assertion. When 
asked if he spoke French, he answered that he spoke a 
Norman dialect, but when some one present volunteered to 
converse with him in that dialect, he declined to say anything 
further on the subject. Finding himself unable to maintain 
the position he had assumed, and being confronted with some 
clothing found in his possession in New Zealand, which were 
marked “C. A. P.,” the initials of Preller’s name, he 
admitted that his name was Maxwell, and that he had come 
to the Southern Hotel at nearly the same time as Preller, but 
he strenuously denied that the murdered man was he. 

In the meantime it had been ascertained that Maxwell, 
who was a physician by profession, though it appeared that 
he was merely traveling for pleasure, had, on Easter Sunday, 
purchased at a drug store in the neighborhood of his hotel, 
four ounces of chloroform, telling the clerk that he wished to 
use it in the performance of an operation he was about to 
undertake. It appeared that not long after making this pur¬ 
chase he had returned to the drug store and excitedly asked 
for two ounces more, which was given him. Confronted with 
this evidence, the accused admitted that he had purchased the 


146 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


chloroform as reported, but denied that he had manifested any 
indication of excitement. This statement was sustained 
somewhat by his conduct in the hotel the evening following 
the death of Preller. Everything he had done and said indi¬ 
cated the most decided coolness. While eating a hearty 
supper he had conversed in an apparently light-hearted way 
with the waiter who served him, alluding laughingly to cer¬ 
tain frolics in which he had recently been engaged. 

Maxwell was indicted for the murder, but was not brought 
to trial until May, 1886, thirteen months after the discovery 
of the crime. In the meantime it was discovered that he had 
registered at the Southern Hotel under an alias, and that his 
real name was Hugh M. Brooks. His father, a reputable man 
of some wealth, hearing of the terrible predicament in which 
his son was placed, came from England to St. Louis, and 
employed able counsel to conduct his defense. 

The State made a strong case against the accused, although 
the proof as to the identity of the body was a trifle weak. In 
the meantime strong efforts had been made to show that 
Preller was still alive, and had been seen at various points in 
the East. The press was filled with such reports, which, 
when run down, amounted to nothing tangible, but still served 
to increase the public interest in a case that had already 
attracted world-wide attention. 

At length the day came when Brooks, or Maxwell, as he 
will continue to be called here, was to take the stand in his 
own defense. The courtroom was crowded to suffocation, and 
expectation was on tiptoe. There is always a morbid curi¬ 
osity to listen to the confession or testimony of an accused 
murderer, and in the present case this was intensified by the 
circumstance that, during the long months he had lain in jail, 
not a word about Preller had passed his lips. He would con¬ 
verse freely and entertainingly on any other subject, but as to 
the crime of which he stood charged his lips were tightly 
sealed. In his testimony Maxwell was very guarded, and told 
a story upholding the theory already advanced in his defense. 
He maintained earnestly and with great show of candor that 
the death of Preller, which he acknowledged was due to 


MAXWELL-PRELLER CASE 


i47 


him, had been entirely accidental. His friend Preller, he 
explained, had long been afflicted with a disease of a private 
nature, and had requested the witness to treat him in a pro¬ 
fessional way. After consulting some medical authorities, he 
decided to put him under the influence of chloroform that he 
might conduct the necessary examination without pain to the 
patient. Accordingly, he went to a neighboring drug store 
and procured four ounces of the fluid. Before Preller was 
entirely unconscious, the witness accidentally overturned the 
bottle, and had been obliged to go hurriedly for a fresh 
supply. Returning, he continued to administer the anesthetic, 
when, suddenly, and to his utter consternation, he discovered 
that his patient was in a dying condition. He used every 
means in his power to revive the unfortunate man, but without 
avail, and in a few minutes his patient was dead. 

Continuing, the witness stated that he was unacquainted 
with the laws of this country, and supposed that he could not 
be permitted to testify in his own behalf, in the event of his 
being put on trial for his life, as is the case in England. 
Accordingly he resolved to flee. He was some time, more 
than a day, in reaching this conclusion. In the meantime he 
had been drinking heavily, and was constantly under the 
influence of liquor. Before leaving his room, however, he 
had removed everything from his trunk and tumbled the body 
into it. Later he returned, opened the trunk, cut off the dead 
man’s mustache, and wrote and placed the placard upon the 
corpse. This was about midnight. He spent the remainder 
of the night in the room with the dead body, but acknowl¬ 
edged that he did not sleep. He afterwards placed a pair of 
drawers upon the body, and made some superficial cuts on 
the breast with a scalpel. He did this, he averred, to puzzle 
the police after he had definitely determined to fly. As to 
why he did not have the trunk removed from the hotel and 
checked to some other city or town, Maxwell offered no explana¬ 
tion. He admitted that he took possession of the dead man’s 
money, which, according to his statement, he did not count, 
but thought amounted to about six hundred dollars; when he 
reached St. Louis he had only about fifty dollars of his own. 


148 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


In a certain way the defense offered for Maxwell was 
similar to that advanced in the famous case of Dr. John W. 
Webster, who was tried and convicted in Boston in 1850 for 
the murder of Dr. John Parkman, which is given in detail 
elsewhere in this volume. After his conviction Dr. Webster 
admitted the killing, but claimed that it was unintentional. 
He had attempted to conceal the evidences of his crime by 
burning the body. In both instances, the guilty men seem to 
have “lost their heads” and adopted courses that would never 
have occurred to them while in the calm possession of their 
faculties. It is the experience and the observation of the 
author that this often happens. Men who are amateurs in the 
commission of terrible crimes will often work up a case with 
consummate skill, and then, when the deed is committed, lose 
all self-control and do the most foolish things, calculated to 
make known their guilt. With hardened criminals, who have 
long pursued courses of crime, the case is generally different, 
and the cunning which planned the deed does not desert the 
perpetrators. 

Maxwell, or more properly Brooks, although ably de¬ 
fended, was found guilty and sentenced to death. The most 
strenuous efforts were made to secure a commutation of 
his sentence, but without avail, and he paid, upon the scaffold, 
the penalty of his awful crime. 

There is a wide difference of opinion as to whether he 
deliberately planned the murder; and had he promptly sur¬ 
rendered himself to the police and made to them the statement 
he gave upon the witness stand, he very probably would 
have escaped punishment. His concealment of the body and 
appropriation of the money of the murdered man, coupled 
with his subsequent flight, satisfied the jury that he was guilty 
as charged. His case must be classed with those committed 
from motives of cupidity. He was almost without money, and 
his friend was well supplied. Following the example set by 
millions of others, he basely murdered his companion and paid 
for the deed with his own life. In this'case there was a literal 
fulfillment of the scriptural aphorism: “The wages of sin is 
death. ’ ’ 


CHAPTER X 


EUGENE ARAM 

Larger in territorial extent than any two other counties of 
England, Yorkshire occupies almost the geographical centre 
of Great Britain, and lies nearly midway between London and 
Edinburgh. The northwestern portion of the county abounds 
in caverns, some of them of vast extent, and surrounded with 
most picturesque scenery. One of the smallest of all the 
caverns of Yorkshire has attracted greater attention than all 
the rest, for it was there that, in 1759, was discovered the 
skeleton of Daniel Clarke; the first step toward unearthing 
a murder mystery that for fourteen years had been hidden 
under the limestone rocks of St. Robert’s Cave. 

Of all the remarkable cases in the'criminal annals of Eng¬ 
land, that of Eugene Aram has attracted the widest interest, 
which still continues with little abatement, notwithstanding 
the lapse of nearly a century and a half. Of an unusual 
character, surrounded with romantic incidents, long delayed 
in its discovery, depending largely upon circumstantial evi¬ 
dence and defended in a most remarkable and eloquent 
manner, the case we are about to narrate has proved an 
attractive theme for the pen of the poet, the dramatist and 
the novelist. Few who know anything of the history of 
crime, and a less number of those familiar with the literature 
of the world, are ignorant of this justly celebrated case. At 
the same time there are in print to-day very few accurate 
accounts of the life, crime, famous trial and tragic end of the 
renowned scholar and schoolmaster. As the author has more 
than once remarked, works of fiction contain much of general 
truth, though the separate details be of imaginative creation, 
and may well be used as illustrations of human action. At 

149 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


150 

the same time, one seeking to know the truth should not go to 
the pages of an historical novel to learn the facts of history. 
Actual occurrences are seldom entirely fitted for the uses of 
the story-teller, who accordingly exercises a large amount of 
license in twisting them to suit his purpose. Many good 
people base their biblical knowledge upon Milton’s “Paradise 
Lost,’’ and have obtained their “historical facts” from the 
pages of Dumas, Muhlbach and Scott. As to the case under 
discussion, this is peculiarly true, Lord Lytton’s “Eugene 
Aram” having been generally accepted as a fair account, 
colored with romance and adorned with fancy, but none the 
less essentially accurate and reliable. This is very far from 
being true. An admirable and praiseworthy work, to be com¬ 
mended both from a literary and a moral standpoint, it makes 
something of a martyr of Aram, and is, in many regards, 
entirely misleading and deceptive. 

Eugene Aram was born at Ramsgill, in Yorkshire, in the 
year 1704. His family was an old one, and, in remote times, 
had enjoyed considerable distinction. At the time of Eugene’s 
birth, it had become greatly reduced, his father following the 
occupation of a gardener. While Aram was yet an infant, his 
family removed to the village of Shelton in the same county. 
When Eugene was six years old his father purchased a small 
cottage at Bradgate, near Rippon. Young Aram early mani¬ 
fested great intellectual ability and a decided thirst for knowl¬ 
edge. While yet a child, he attracted the attention of Sir 
Edward Blackett, a Yorkshire gentleman of letters, with 
whom the elder Aram was employed as a gardener. This 
kindly gentleman employed him as a personal attendant, 
and he lived for some time in an atmosphere of books and learn¬ 
ing, devoting all his leisure moments to study. He became 
remarkably proficient in mathematics, and at the age of six¬ 
teen procured, through the kindly offices of Sir Edward, a 
position as bookkeeper with Mr. Christopher Blackett, a 
brother of the nobleman, who was engaged in business in 
London. This position soon grew distasteful to the young 
student, who had become weary of mathematics, and longed 
to perfect himself in the classical languages and literature, 


EUGENE ARAM 


151 

He fretted under the restraint, but was speedily released. 
Being attacked with smallpox, he left London and returned to 
his father’s house. Here, thanks to the liberality and self- 
denial of his worthy father, he was able to pursue a more 
systematic course of study than ever before, and soon gained 
considerable reputation as a rising scholar. After having 
served in various literary capacities in different parts of Eng¬ 
land, he was invited to the house of Mr. William Norton, of 
Knaresborough, in Yorkshire. Mr. Norton was himself 
devoted to study, and, being a man of wealth, gave the young 
man employment well suited to his literary tastes, and an 
opportunity to pursue his linguistic and other studies. 

About this time Eugene Aram contracted a marriage, of 
which little is now known, but which does not appear to have 
been a very happy one. Not only did he afterwards desert 
his wife, but his untimely end was directly traceable to declara¬ 
tions, or more properly insinuations, of hers. 

While in Knaresborough, Aram formed the acquaintance 
of two men, each destined to have a remarkable effect upon his 
subsequent life. One of these men was Richard Houseman, 
a dissolute and dishonest man, who lived principally by ply¬ 
ing a trade that has not yet become obsolete, i. e., using his 
wits. He was a man of rather a low order, of little intellec¬ 
tuality and less education; one of the last in whose society a 
man of Aram’s temperament, erudition and aspirations, 
would seem likely to find anything of pleasure or profit. At 
this time, however, our student seems to have begun to fret 
under the limitations placed upon him by the small means he 
had at command. Intellectual advancement and elevation, 
however desirable and praiseworthy, are none the less to be 
condemned when they excite feelings of cupidity and lead to 
dishonorable and criminal acts. 

The other acquaintance of Aram was a shoemaker of 
Knaresborough, named Daniel Clarke. This man had recently 
married, and had given out that hq expected to soon receive 
quite a fortune from wealthy relatives of his wife. In common 
with all the people of the town, Aram and Houseman heard 
this story, and made it the frequent subject of conversation, 


152 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Interviewing Clarke upon the subject, they learned that the 
story was true, but that the shoemaker was in a good deal of 
doubt as to whether the expected present would be forthcom¬ 
ing. Whereupon they suggested to him that if it failed it 
would be because he was poor, as the rich relatives of his 
wife would hardly give him any considerable sum of money so 
long as he appeared to be in indigent circumstances, since 
they would fear that he might squander it, as he had his own 
property. They suggested that he go to London, where he 
had acquaintances, and some credit with merchants, and pur¬ 
chase, on time, a large amount of silverware, jewelry, watches, 
etc. Whether in giving this advice Aram had any ulterior 
object in view has been doubted, and the truth cannot now be 
established. In any event, it was not long before Houseman 
and himself concocted a scheme to profit by the dishonesty of 
Clarke, who appears to have been a thorough rascal himself. 

Clarke was overjoyed at the prospect of wealth that the 
suggestion afforded, and lost no time in carrying it into execu¬ 
tion. He told the merchants in London that he wished to 
purchase the articles for export, and would pay for them as 
soon as he received a remittance. He thus secured possession 
of goods of great value, borrowed some articles from acquaint¬ 
ances, on some pretext or other, and returned with his booty 
to Knaresborough. His plan doubtless was to decamp with 
the plunder, if the promised fortune was not forthcoming in 
time to enable him to satisfy his creditors. 

Shortly after his return home, the shoemaker and his newly 
acquired wealth suddenly disappeared. The facts as to his 
buying and borrowing the valuables speedily became public, 
and he was set down as a common swindler. In the mean¬ 
time, Aram fell under suspicion. He had been quite intimate 
with Clarke for some months, and the seeming friendship of 
two men so entirely dissimilar in their habits of life and 
modes of thought had not failed to attract the attention of the 
gossips of the town. Houseman was also suspected, but he 
had left the country. A search of Aram’s premises was 
ordered, and, buried in his garden, a considerable portion of 
the goods secured in London were found. The scholar was 


EUGENE ARAM 


i 53 


brought to trial on the charge of having been a confederate of 
Clarke’s in the swindling operation, and sharing in the pro¬ 
ceeds. He was acquitted through lack of evidence, but his 
good name in Knaresborough was blasted. 

Shortly after this, Aram disappeared, and nothing was 
heard of him, not even by his wife, for a period of fourteen 
years. As a matter of fact, he at once repaired to London, 
where he sold to a Jew as much of the plunder as he had 
managed to retain. This accomplished, he became an usher 
in Latin in the private school of the Rev. Mr. Plainblanc, in 
Picadilly, London. He remained some time in this place, but 
finally adopted a nomadic mode of life and pursued his voca¬ 
tion of teacher in different parts of England. All this time he 
seems to have pursued a regular course of study and had risen 
to considerable local distinction as a scholar. He had acquired 
quite a complete knowledge of botany, heraldry, Chaldean, 
Arabic, Welsh and Irish, and gathered much material for a 
proposed etymological word, to be entitled “A Comparative 
Lexicon of the English, Latin, Greek, Hebrew and Celtic 
Languages. ’ ’ 

Aram and Houseman had brutally murdered Daniel Clarke 
that they might possess themselves of the property they had 
themselves persuaded him to fraudulently secure. Fourteen 
years had elapsed, and the matter was almost forgotten in 
Knaresborough, for no one had even suggested that the shoe¬ 
maker had met with foul play, and an ordinary swindle takes 
no deep hold upon the memory of a community. If the 
perpetrator of a crime was ever justified in believing that all 
traces of his wrong-doing had disappeared, and that he was 
absolutely insured against its consequences, Eugene Aram 
surely was. But the ways of Providence are inscrutable, and 
sin finds out those who least expect or fear it. The weak 
things of this world oftentimes confound the wise. 

In 1759, a laborer digging in a field near Knaresborough, 
unearthed the skeleton of a human being. Even in a city, 
such an occurrence excites curiosity and awe, but in a rural 
district it throws the people into something like a panic. The 
population went fairly wild over the gruesome discovery. All 


154 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


sorts of theories were advanced by the knowing ones, but the 
opinion that the bones were those of Daniel Clarke gained the 
widest credence. Exactly why this should have been so is 
not apparent. It was universally believed that he had fled the 
country to avoid arrest, the punishment for swindling being, 
at that time, most severe. Aram’s wife, who still resided at 
Knaresborough, threw out certain hints that decided the 
authorities to apprehend Houseman and the school-teacher. 
There was no clue to the whereabouts of the latter, but the for¬ 
mer, after some considerable delay, was located in Scotland, and 
brought back to Knaresborough to be present at the inquest. 
Confronted with the bones, he became greatly perturbed, and 
upon being handed one of them by the coroner, he exclaimed, 
“This is no more one of Daniel Clarke’s bones than it is one of 
mine.” These words, coupled with the intensely earnest 
manner in which they were uttered, made a decided impres¬ 
sion on all present. Why should Houseman so vehemently 
protest that the bones were not those of Clarke unless he 
knew that the body of the shoemaker had been deposited 
elsewhere? This question at once presented itself to the mind 
of the coroner, and he pressed it upon Houseman, who, realiz¬ 
ing that he had made a mistake, became greatly confused, 
and finally broke down and confessed that he had seen Clarke 
murdered. He did not at first admit that he had been con¬ 
nected with the crime, but charged it upon Aram and a man 
named Terry. As to the body, he said that it had been buried 
in St. Robert’s Cave. An excited crowd of people ran 
immediately to the romantic spot, and after searching for some 
time in the fragments of limestone that covered the floor of 
the cavern, came upon a human skeleton, minus the head. It 
was doubled up, and had obviously been buried in that posi¬ 
tion. Houseman now abandoned much of his first story, and 
admitted that he had been Aram’s confederate. He denied 
that he had ever seen the body of Clarke after he was mur¬ 
dered, but stated that Aram had told him that the head was 
buried separately, and at some distance to the right of the 
body. Following this clue, a second search was made, which 
resulted in the discovery of a human skull, 


EUGENE ARAM 


i55 


A systematic search was immediately made for Aram, but 
it was some time before any trace of him was found. At last 
he was discovered at Lynn, in Norfolk, where he was an usher 
in a school. He was at once arrested, and conveyed to York 
Castle. On August 13, 1759, he was arraigned for trial before 
Mr. Justice Noel, under an indictment charging him with the 
murder of Daniel Clarke. The evidence was almost entirely 
of a circumstantial character, the only direct incriminating 
testimony being given by Richard Houseman, who had been 
allowed to turn king’s evidence. He deposed that Aram and 
himself had formed a plot to rob Clarke, and that his accom¬ 
plice had killed him. The three men were taking a walk 
together in the fields. It was bright moonlight, and House¬ 
man, who was some distance behind the others, saw Aram 
strike down his companion. He averred that Aram concealed 
the body in St. Robert’s Cave, and that they then proceeded 
to divide the property. He had carried his portion to Scot¬ 
land, where he had disposed of it. 

While the story of Houseman undoubtedly contained much 
of truth, he naturally did all that was in his power to shield 
himself at the sacrifice of his accomplice. That Aram was 
guilty is established by his own confession, written the night 
preceding his execution, but without this, the fact might well 
be doubted. The testimony of a self-confessed murderer 
ought to be taken with a great deal of allowance, and circum¬ 
stantial evidence should be thoroughly sifted and diligently 
compared before it is permitted to secure a sentence of death. 
One peculiarity of the Aram case and that which, more than 
anything else, has caused it to take a prominent place among 
the remarkable criminal cases of England, and the world, is 
the circumstance that he conducted his own defense, and did 
it in such a masterly way as to well-nigh secure his acquittal, 
and give to his personality a lasting earthly prominence. His 
address to the court and jury is a masterpiece in its way, and 
strongly shows the inherent weaknesses and the dangers 
attending upon the introduction of circumstantial evidence. 
Besides, it conveys a good idea of the case, as proven in court. 
It is presented here, almost entire. 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


156 


“My lord,” began Aram, “I know not whether it is of 
right, or through some indulgence of your lordship, that I am 
allowed the liberty at this bar, and at this time, to attempt a 
defense; incapable and uninstructed as I am to speak. Since, 
while I see so many eyes upon me, so numerous and awful a 
concourse, fixed with attention, and filled with I know not 
what expectancy, I labor, not with guilt, my lord, but with 
perplexity. For, having never seen a court but this, being 
wholly unacquainted with law, the customs of the bar, and all 
judiciary proceedings, I fear I shall be so little capable of 
speaking with propriety, that it might reasonably be expected 
to exceed my hope, should I be able to speak at all. 

“I have heard, my lord, the indictment read, wherein I find 
myself charged with the highest of human crimes. You will 
grant me, then, your patience, if I, single and unskilful, desti¬ 
tute of friends, and unassisted by counsel, attempt something, 
perhaps, like argument in my defense. What I have to say 
will be but short, and that brevity may be the best part of it. 

“My lord, the tenor of my life contradicts this indictment. 
Who can look back over what is known of my former years, 
and charge me with one vice—one offense? No! I concerted 
not schemes of fraud—projected no violence—injured no man’s 
property or person. My days were honestly laborious—my 
nights intensely studious. This egotism is not presumptuous 
—it is not unreasonable. What man, after a temperate use of 
life, a series of thinking and acting regularly, without one 
single deviation from a sober and even tenor of conduct, ever 
plunged into the depths of crime precipitately, and at once? 
Mankind are not instantaneously corrupted. Villainy is 
always progressive. We decline from the right—not sud¬ 
denly, but step after step. 

“If my life in general contradicts the indictment, my health 
at that time, in particular, contradicts it yet more. A little 
time before, I had been confined to my bed—I had suffered a 
long and severe disorder. The distemper left me but slowly, 
and in part. So far from being well at the time I am charged 
with this fact, I never, to this day, perfectly recovered. 
Could a person in this condition execute violence against 


EUGENE ARAM 


i57 


another? I, feeble and valetudinary, with no inducement to 
engage—no ability to accomplish—no weapon wherewith to 
perpetrate such a fact;—without interest, without power, 
without motives, without means! 

“My lord, Clarke disappeared; true; but is that a proof of 
his death? The fallibility of all conclusions of such a sort, 
from such a circumstance, is too obvious to require instances. 
One instance is before you; this very castle affords it. 

“In June, 1757, William Thompson, amidst all the vigi¬ 
lance of this place, in open daylight, and double-ironed, made 
his escape; notwithstanding all advertisements, all search, he 
was never seen or heard of since. If this man escaped 
unseen, through all these difficulties, how easy for Clarke, 
whom no difficulties opposed! Yet what would be thought of 
a prosecution commenced against any one seen last with 
Thompson? 

“These bones are discovered; where? Of all places in the 
world, can we think of any one, except the churchyard, where 
there is so great a certainty of finding human bones, as a 
hermitage? In times past, the hermitage was a place, not 
only of religious retirement, but of burial. And it has scarce, 
or never, been heard of, but that every cell now known, 
contains or contained these relics of humanity; some mutilated 
—some entire! Give me leave to remind your lordship, that 
here sat Solitary Sanctity, and here the hermit and the 
anchorite hoped that repose for their bones when dead they 
here enjoyed when living. I glance over a few of the man3 r 
evidences, that these cells were used as repositories of the 
dead, and enumerate a few of the many caves similar in origin 
to St. Robert’s, in which human bones have been found. ” 

At this point the accused mentioned several places where 
bones have been found surrounded by circumstances not 
unlike those in the case before the jury. He concluded this 
portion of his address by mentioning two well-known facts, 
where skeletons had been found in that portion of Yorkshire. 
He then proceeded vehemently: 

“Is, then, the invention of those bones forgotten or indus¬ 
triously concealed, that the discovery of these in question may 


15 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


appear the more extraordinary? Extraordinary—yet how 
common an event! Every place conceals such remains. In 
fields—in hills—in highway sides—on wastes—on commons, 
lie frequent and unsuspected bones. And mark—no example, 
perhaps, occurs of more than one skeleton being found in one 
cell. Here you find but one, agreeable to the peculiarity of 
every known cell in Britain. Had twp skeletons been dis¬ 
covered, then alone might the fact have seemed suspicious 
and uncommon. What! Have we forgotten how difficult, as 
in the case of Perkin Warbeck, and Lambert Symnel, it has 
been sometimes to identify the living; and shall we now assign 
personality to bones—bones which may belong to either sex? 
How know you that this is even the skeleton of a man? But 
another skeleton was discovered by some laborer? Was not 
that skeleton averred to be Clarke’s, full as confidently as this? 

“My lord, my lord,—must some of the living be made 
answerable for all the bones that earth has concealed, and 
chance exposed? The skull that has been produced has been 
declared fractured. But who can surely tell whether it was 
the cause or the consequence of death? In May, 1732, the 
ramains of William, Lord Archbishop of this province, were 
taken up by permission, in their cathedral; the bones of the 
skull were found broken, as these are; yet he died by no 
violence—by no blow that could have caused that fracture. 
Let it be considered how easy the fracture on the skull is 
accounted for. At the dissolution of religious houses, the 
ravages of the times affected both the living and the dead. In 
search after imaginary treasures, coffins were broken, graves 
and vaults dug open, monuments ransacked, shrines demol¬ 
ished ; Parliament itself was called in to restrain these viola¬ 
tions. And now are the depredations, the iniquities of those 
times to be visited on this? But here, above all, was a castle 
vigorously besieged; every spot around was the scene of a 
sally, a conflict, a flight, a pursuit. When the slaughtered 
fell, there were they buried. What place is not burial earth 
in war? How many bones must still remain in the vicinity of 
that siege, for futurity to discover? Can you, then, with so 
many probable circumstances, choose the one least probable? 


EUGENE ARAM 


T S9 


Can you impute to the living what zeal in its fury may have 
done; what nature may have taken off and piety interred; or 
what war alone may have destroyed, alone deposited? 

“And now, glance over the circumstantial evidence—how 
weak, how frail! I almost scorn to allude to it; I will not 
condescend to dwell upon it. The witness of one man, 
arraigned himself! Is there no chance, that, to save his own 
life, he might conspire against mine?—no chance, that he 
might have committed this murder, if murder hath indeed 
been done? that conscience betrayed him in his first exclama¬ 
tion? that craft suggested his throwing that guilt upon me, to 
the knowledge of which he had unwittingly confessed? He 
declares that he saw me strike Clarke—that he saw him fall ; 
yet he utters no cry—no reproof. He calls for no aid; he 
returns quietly home; he declares that he knows not what 
became of the body, yet he tells where the body is laid. He 
declares that he went straight home, and alone; yet the 
woman with whom I lodged declares that Houseman and I 
returned to my house in company together;—what evidence is 
this? And from whom does it come?—ask yourselves. As for 
the rest of the evidence, what does it amount to? The watch¬ 
man saw Houseman leave my house at night. What more 
probable—but what less connected with the murder—real or 
supposed—of Clarke? Some pieces of clothing are found 
buried in my garden; but how can it be shown that they 
belonged to Clarke? Who can swear to—who can prove— 
anything so vague? And if found there, even if belonging to 
Clarke, what proof that they were there deposited by me? 
How likely that the real criminal may, in the dead of night, 
have preferred any spot rather than round his own home, to 
conceal the evidence of his crime? 

“How impotent such evidence as this! and how poor, how 
precarious, even the strongest of mere circumstantial evidence 
invariably is! Let it rise to probability, to the strongest 
degree of probability; it is probability still. Recollect the 
case of the two Harrisons, recorded by Doctor Howell; both 
suffered on circumstantial evidence on the account of the dis¬ 
appearance of a man, who, like Clarke, contracted debts, 


i6o MURDER IN ALL AGES 

borrowed money, and went off unseen. And this man 
returned several years after their execution. Why remind 
you of Jacques du Moulin, in the reign of Charles the Second? 
Why of the unhappy Coleman, convicted though afterwards 
found innocent, and whose children perished of want, because 
the world believed their father guilty? Why should I mention 
the perjury of Smith, who, admitted king’s evidence, screened 
himself by accusing Painloth and Loveday of the murder of. 
Dunn? The first was executed, the second was about to share 
the same fate, when the perjury of Smith was incontrovertibly 
proved. 

“And now, my lord, having endeavored to show that the 
whole of this charge is altogether repugnant to every part of 
my life; that it is inconsistent with my condition of health 
about that time; that no rational inference of the death of a 
person can be drawn from his disappearance; that hermitages 
were the constant repositories of the bones of the recluse; 
that the proofs of these are well authenticated; that the revo¬ 
lution in religion, or the fortunes of war, have mangled or 
buried the dead; that the strongest circumstantial evidence is 
often lamentably fallacious; that in my case that evidence, so 
far from being strong, is weak, disconnected, contradictory; 
what remains? A conclusion, perhaps, no less reasonably 
than impatiently wished for. I, at last, after nearly a year’s 
confinement, equal to either fortune, entrust myself to the 
candor, the justice, the humanity of your lordship, and to 
yours, my countrymen, gentlemen of the jury. ” 

This speech, delivered with fine elocutionary effects, in an 
earnest, and at times exceedingly dramatic manner, produced 
a decided effect upon both jury and audience; many of the 
latter being moved to tears. Had the case been submitted to 
the jury at this point, almost beyond question, the accused 
would have left the crowded courtroom a free man. Among 
all who listened to the impassioned address of the prisoner at 
the bar, one man sat entirely unmoved; this man was the 
judge, Mr. Justice Noel. Those unaccustomed to the proceed¬ 
ings in courts of law can have little idea of the effect sometimes 
produced upon a jury by the charge of the trial judge. He 



DISCOVERY OF DANIEL CLARKE’S BONES IN ST. ROBERT’S CAVE. — PAGE 1 54. 














EUGENE ARAM 


161 


stands as the personification of the law, and, whether wear¬ 
ing a black official robe, or dressed in the garb of an ordinary- 
citizen, excites in men little accustomed to such scenes, as 
jurymen usually are, mingled feelings of respect and awe— 
respect for the exalted position he occupies, and awe at the 
fearful power entrusted to his hands. Where a judge has so 
conducted himself upon a trial as to command the entire 
respect of the jury, he can usually, by his rulings and charge, 
so impress and so influence them as to secure a verdict to his 
own liking. If this is true to-day, it was doubly so a century 
and a half ago; now, in many States of this Union, Illinois, 
for instance, the jury are the sole judges of both the law and 
the evidence. In England, the jury are judges of the evi¬ 
dence alone, the instructions of the judge on points of law 
being final, and leaving them no discretion in the matter. 
The tremendous influence that a judge can exercise in sway¬ 
ing juries to secure convictions, is amply shown in the success, 
in that direction, of the infamous Jeffreys, an account of 
whose judicial murders will be found elsewhere in this volume. 

At the time when this famous trial occurred, the full and 
complete court reports of the present day were unknown. Of 
the trial of Aram, the prisoner’s address is the only portion 
that has come down to us entire. This is to be regretted, for 
the charge of Justice Noel was considered at the time of its 
delivery as scarcely less eloquent and forcible than the defense 
of the prisoner. The points that he made are, however, well 
understood. He reviewed the evidence at great length, 
dwelling with care upon the most minute details. Houseman, 
the only direct witness to the tragedy, had contradicted him¬ 
self in several particulars, and the judge instructed the jury 
that his position was to be taken into account. He had turned 
king’s evidence, but naturally wished to avoid incriminating 
himself, any further than might be absolutely necessary. The 
weakness of this reasoning is apparent, yet it undoubtedly had 
great weight with the jury. Commenting upon the eloquent 
and logical defense of the accused, he used consummate skill 
and tact in robbing it of the force with which it had struck the 
twelve men in the jury box. He highly eulogized the elo- 


162 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


quence of the prisoner, who, relying solely upon his own 
genius to impress the jury, had neither employed counsel nor 
called witnesses. His praise of Aram’s effort from the artistic 
standpoint, and the warnings that he skilfully introduced, 
brought the jury down from the clouds to which the eloquence 
of the scholar had raised them, and, at one blow, destroyed its 
effect. This accomplished, he proceeded to solemnly declare 
that nothing in the elaborate argument of the prisoner at all 
answered or invalidated the positive evidence that had been 
produced against him. 

The jury retired, and, after a short conference, returned 
with a verdict of guilty. The judge placed the black cap 
upon his head, and solemnly proceeded to sentence Eugene 
Aram to be executed three days later, August 16, 1759; his 
body to be hung in chains in Knaresborough forest. Aram 
received his sentence, which he knew to be absolutely final 
and irrevocable, with becoming dignity and composure. 

The night before his execution he made a determined effort 
to terminate his own life. With a razor that he had somehow 
managed to secure, he cut his arm in two places. He made 
this attempt in the latter part of the night, and the fact was 
discovered early in the morning, in time to prevent his bleed¬ 
ing to death. Weak as he was, he maintained a serene 
composure to the last, and died as stoically as he had lived. 

During the night preceding his execution, and just before 
he made the attempt to take his own life, Aram wrote two 
statements which will prove at once entertaining and instruct¬ 
ive, as showing something of the real character of this 
remarkable man. One of them is something of a personal 
defense and justification of the suicide he was about to 
attempt. It is as follows: 

“What am I better than my fathers? To die is natural and 
necessary. Perfectly sensible of this, I fear no more to die 
than I did to be born. But the manner of it is something 
which should, in my opinion, be decent and manly. I think I 
have regarded both these points. Certainly no man has a 
better right to dispose of a man’s life than himself; and he, 
not others, should determine how. As for many indignities 


EUGENE ARAM 


163 


offered my body, or silly reflections on my faith and morals, 
they are, as they always were, things indifferent to me. I 
think, though contrary to the common way of thinking, I 
wrong no man by this, and hope it is not offensive to that 
Eternal Being that formed me and the world; and as by this I 
injure no man, no man can reasonably be offended. I solicit¬ 
ously recommend myself to the Eternal and Almighty Being, 
the God of Nature, if I have done amiss. But perhaps I have 
not; and I hope this thing will never be imputed to me. 
Though I am now stained by malevolence and suffer by preju¬ 
dice, I hope to rise fair and unblemished. My life was not 
polluted, my morals irreproachable, and my opinions orthodox. 
I slept sound till three o’clock, awakened, and then writ these 
lines: 

“Come pleasing rest! eternal slumbers, fall! 

Seal mine, that once must seal the eyes of all. 

Calm and composed my soul her journey takes; 

No guilt that troubles and no heart that aches. 

Adieu thou sun! all bright, like her arise! 

Adieu fair friends, and all that’s good and wise.” 

The other paper is in the form of a letter addressed to a 
personal friend. It runs as follows: 

‘ ‘ My Dear Friend:—Before this reaches you I shall be no 
more a man living in this world, though at present in bodily 
health; but who can describe the horrors of mind which I 
suffer at this instant? Guilt—the guilt of blood shed without 
any provocation, without any cause but that of filthy lucre— 
pierces my conscience with wounds that give most poignant 
pains! ’Tis true, the consciousness of my horrid guilt has 
given me frequent interruptions in the midst of my business or 
pleasure; but yet I have found means to stifle its clamors, and 
contrived a momentary remedy for the disturbance it gave me 
by applying to the bottle or the bowl, or diversions, or com¬ 
pany, or business; but now all these, and all other amusements 
are at an end, and I am left forlorn, helpless and destitute of 
every comfort; for I have nothing now in view but the certain 
destruction both of my soul and body. My conscience will 
now no longer suffer itself to be hoodwinked or browbeat; it 
has now got the mastery; it is my accuser, judge and execu¬ 
tioner; and the sentence it pronounceth against me is more 
dreadful than that I heard from the bench, which only con- 


164 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


demned my body to the pains of death, which are soon over; 
but conscience tells me plainly that she will summon me 
before another tribunal, where I shall have neither power nor 
means to stifle the evidence she will there bring against me; 
and that the sentence which will then be pronounced will not 
only be irreversible, but it will condemn my soul to torments 
that will have no end. 

“Oh! had I but hearkened to the advice which dear-bought 
experience has enabled me to give I should not now have been 
plunged into that dreadful gulf of despair which I shall find it 
impossible to extricate myself from; and therefore my soul is 
filled with horror inconceivable. I see both God and man my 
enemies, and in a few hours shall be exposed a public spec¬ 
tacle for the world to gaze at. Can you conceive any condition 
anymore horrible than mine? Oh, no! it cannot be. I am 
determined, therefore, to put a short end to trouble I am no 
longer able to bear, and prevent the executioner by doing his 
business with my own hand, and shall by this means at least 
prevent the shame and disgrace of a public exposure, and 
leave the care of my soul into the hands of eternal mercy. 
Wishing you all health, happiness and prosperity, I am, to the 
last moment of my life, Yours with sincere regard, 

“Eugene Aram.” 

These two papers of Eugene Aram are well worth the 
reader’s critical examination. They show a composure and 
concentration of mind which is remarkable in one upon the 
threshold of eternity. More than that, they give an admirable 
demonstration of the man’s true character. In the one first 
quoted, which, though unaddressed, was evidently designed 
for the public, as some sort of vindication of his memory, he 
represents himself as having lived a moral and religious life. 
Indeed, he distinctly claimed that he was a subject of injustice, 
and expected his reputation to shine fair and unblemished. 
His ingenious, but somewhat weak defense of suicide, makes 
in the same direction. In announcing his contempt of death 
and his faith in God, he evidently hoped to raise himself in the 
estimation of posterity, to,which, he seemed intuitively to 
know, the story of his life would go down. 

In the letter to his friend, which he apparently had no idea 
would ever become public property, he doubtless embodied 
his true feelings, and told of the awful remorse and fear that 


EUGENE ARAM 


165 

harassed his guilty soul. Instead of maintaining his inno¬ 
cence, as he did by inference in the first paper, designed as a 
public vindication, he lays bare his soul to his friend, and, in 
express terms, admits his guilt. The entire letter tells of 
remorse and despair of future happiness, and carries upon its 
face strongs marks of sincerity. It would seem amply 
sufficient to destroy those arguments, many of which have 
been prepared in recent times, advanced to show that Aram 
was either entirely innocent or only very slightly culpable. 
That he was a depraved and vicious man, no one would now 
claim. The worst that can be said of him is that he yielded to 
the temptation to secure wealth by unlawful means, which 
culminated, perhaps against his wishes—for it is not at all 
improbable that Houseman was the leading spirit in the 
undertaking—in murder. 

This letter doubtless furnished Thomas Hood with the sug¬ 
gestion for the remarkable poem in which he describes the 
remorse of the murderer. Like Lord Lytton, Hood varied 
the facts to suit the demands of his poetic fancy. It is one of 
the most powerful and realistic poems in the language. For 
the benefit of those of our readers who are not familiar with 
it, and also because it seems to constitute an essential part of 
the literature of this great case, it is quoted here, entire : 


THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM 

’Twas in the prime of summertime, 

An evening calm and cool 

And four and twenty happy boys 
Came bounding out of school: 

There were some that ran, and some that leapt, 
Like troutlets in a pool. 

Away they sped with gamesome minds, 

And souls untouched by sin; 

To a level mead they came, and there 
They drave the wickets in: 

Pleasantly shone the setting sun 
Over the town of Lynn. 



i66 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Like sportive deer they coursed about, 

And shouted as they ran:— 

Turning to mirth all things of earth, 

As only boyhood can; 

But the Usher sat remote from all, 

A melancholy man! 

His hat was off, his vest apart, 

To catch heaven’s blessed breeze; 

For a burning thought was in his brow, 

And his bosom ill at ease; 

So he leaned his head on his hands, and read 
The book between his knees! 

Leaf after leaf he turned it o’er, 

Nor ever glanced aside, 

For the peace of his soul he read that book 
In the golden eventide: 

Much study had made him very lean, 

And pale, and leaden-eyed. 

At last he shut the ponderous tome; 

With a fast and fervent grasp 

He strained the dusky covers close, 

And fixed the brazen hasp; 

“O God! could I so close my mind, 

And clasp it with a clasp. ’ ’ 

Then leaping on his feet upright, 

Some moody turns he took,— 

Now up the mead, then down the mead, 

And past a shady nook,— 

And lo! he saw a little boy 
That pored upon a book! 

“My gentle lad, what is’t you read— 
Romance or fairy fable? 

Or is it some historic page, 

Of kings and crowns unstable?” 

The young boy gave an upward glance,— 

“It is ‘The Death of Abel’.” 

The Usher took six hasty strides, 

As smit with sudden pain,— 

Six hasty strides beyond the place, 

Then slowly back again; 

And down he sat beside the lad, 

And talked with him of Cain, 


THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM 167 


And long, since then, of bloody men, 

Whose deeds tradition saves; 

Of lonely folks cut off unseen, 

And hid in sudden graves; 

Of horrid stabs in groves forlorn, 

And murders done in caves. 

And how the sprites of injured men 
Shriek upward from the sod,— 

Ay, how the ghostly hand will point 
To show the burial clod; 

And unknown facts of guilty acts 
Are seen in dreams from God. 

He told how murderers walk the earth 
Beneath the curse of Cain,— 

With crimson clouds before their eyes, 

And flames about their brain; 

For blood has left upon their souls 
Its everlasting stain! 

“And well,” quoth he, “I know, for truth, 
Their pangs must be extreme,— 

Woe, woe, unutterable woe,— 

Who spills life’s sacred stream! 

For why? Methought, last night, I wrought 
A murder in a dream! 

“One that had never done me wrong,— 

A feeble man and old; 

I led him to a lonely field,— 

The moon shone clear and cold; 

Now here, said I, this man shall die 
And I will have his gold! 

“Two sudden blows with a ragged stick, 
And one with a heavy stone, 

One hurried gash with a hasty knife,— 

And then the deed was done; 

There was nothing lying at my foot 
But lifeless flesh and bone! 

“Nothing but lifeless flesh and bone, 

That could not do me ill; 

And yet I feared him all the more, 

For lying there so still; 

There was a manhood in his look, 

That murder could not kill! 


/ 


i68 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


‘ ‘And lo! the universal air 
Seemed lit with ghastly flame;— 

Ten thousand thousand dreadful eyes 
Were looking down in blame; 

I took the dead man by his hand, 

And called upon his name! 

“O, God! it made me quake to see 
Such sense within the slain! 

But when I touched the lifeless clay, 

The blood gushed out amain! 

For every clot, a burning spot 
Was scorching in my brain! 

“My head was like an ardent coal, 

My heart as solid ice; 

My wretched, wretched soul. I knew, 

Was at the devil’s price; 

A dozen times I groaned; the dead 
Had never groaned but twice! 

“And now, from forth the frowning sky, 
From the heaven’s topmost height, 

I heard a voice—the awful voice 
Of the blood-avenging sprite;— 

Thou guilty man! take up thy dead 
And hide it from my sight! 

“I took the dreary body up 
And cast it in a stream,— 

A sluggish water, black as ink, 

The depth was so extreme:— 

My gentle Boy, remember this 
Is nothing but a dream! 

“Down went the corse with a hollow plunge, 
And vanished in the pool; 

Anon I cleansed my bloody hands, 

And washed my forehead cool, 

And sat among the urchins young, 

That evening, in the school. 

“O, Heaven! to think of their white souls, 
And mine so black and grim! 

T could not share in childish prayer, 

Nor join in evening hymn; 

Like a devil of the pit I seemed, 

’Mid holy cherubim! 


THE DREAM OF EUGENE ARAM 


169 


“And peace went with them, one and all, 
And each calm pillow spread; 

But Guilt was my grim chamberlain 
That lighted me to bed; 

And drew my midnight curtains round, 

With fingers bloody red! 

“All night I lay in agony, 

In anguish dark and deep; 

My fevered eyes I dared not close, 

But stared aghast at sleep; 

For sin had rendered unto,her 
The keys of hell to keep! 

“All night I lay in agony, 

From weary chime to chime, 

With one besetting horrid hint, 

That racked me all the time; 

A mighty yearning, like the first 
Fierce impulse unto crime! 

“One stern tyrannic thought, that made 
All other thoughts its slave; 

Stronger and stronger every pulse 
Did that temptation crave,— 

Still urging me to go and see 
The dead man in his grave! 

“Heavily I rose up, as soon 
As light was in the sky, 

And sought the black accursed pool 
With wild misgiving eye; 

And now I saw the dead in the river bed, 
For the faithless stream was dry. 

“Merrily rose the lark, and shook 
The dew-drop from its wing; 

But I never marked its morning flight, 

I never heard it sing; 

For I was stooping once again 
Under the horrid thing. 

“With breathless speed, like a soul in chase, 
I took him up and ran;— 

There was no time to dig a grave 
Before the day began; 

In a lonesome wood, with heaps of leaves, 

I hid the murdered man! 


170 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


“And all that day I read in school, 

But my thought was other where; 

As soon as the mid-day task was done, 

In secret I was there; 

And a mighty wind had swept the leaves, 
And still the corse was bare! 

“Then down I cast me on my face, 

And first began to weep, 

For I knew my secret then was one 
That earth refused to keep; 

Or land or sea, though he should be 
Ten thousand fathoms deep. 

“So wills the fierce avenging Sprite, 

Till blood for blood atones! 

Ay, though he’s buried in a cave, 

And trodden down with stones, 

And years have rotted off his flesh,— 

The world shall see his bones! 

“O, God! that horrid, horrid dream 
Besets me now awake! 

Again, again with dizzy brain, 

The human life I take; 

And my red right hand grows raging hot. 
Like Cranmer’s at the stake. 

“And still no peace for the restless clay 1 
Will wave or mould allow; 

The horrid thing pursues my soul,— 

It stands before me now!” 

The fearful boy looked up and saw 
Huge drops upon his brow. 

That very night, while gentle sleep 
The urchin eyelids kissed, 

Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, 
Through the cold and heavy mist; 

And Eugene Aram walked between 
With gyves upon his wrist. 


CHAPTER XI 


JUDICIAL MURDER 

Scarcely any one is so ingenuous as to be ignorant of the 
fact that the scales of the “blind goddess” are not always held 
aloft with a fair and unwavering hand. We all know that 
human nature is frail, and that the real character of a man is 
not changed by wrapping his form in an official robe and 
elevating him to a seat upon the wool-sack. Judicial corrup¬ 
tion has generally been discovered in cases of a civil nature, 
where property rights were involved, and a certain ruling of 
the court was considered worth a certain sum of money by one 
or the other of the parties in interest. So great and distin¬ 
guished a lawyer and jurist as Lord Bacon pleaded guilty to 
a large number of indictments for receiving bribes while 
sitting in the exalted position of Lord Chancellor of England. 

But in a criminal action on the part of the State, where 
the defendant is on trial for his life, judicial corruption is not 
frequent, and where the precedents of the law are strained 
somewhat, it is usually in favor of the accused, whose unhappy 
predicament excites the commiseration of a tender-hearted 
judge. Yet, since the establishment of the first court of 
criminal jurisdiction, down almost to the present day, men 
have been unjustly condemned to death. Except in rare 
instances, this has not resulted in bribes in the form of 
money. Sometimes judges have listened to the clamor of an 
enraged and prejudiced populace or have yielded to personal, 
political and religious bias. The effect of the latter may be 
noted in many of the almost innumerable trials for witchcraft, 
which for centuries stained the judicial records of Europe and 
finally crossed the ocean and disgraced our early colonial his¬ 
tory. In most instances, probably, these judicial crimes were 

171 


172 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


chargeable to judicial ignorance, which, at the best, only 
reduces the enormity of the offense. So distinguished a 
judge as Sir Matthew Hale, Chief Justice of England, con¬ 
demned some women, convicted of witchcraft, to ignominious 
death, and avowed his full faith in the delusion of that age, 
declaring that it was a most grave and dangerous crime. 

By far the greater portion of judicial murders have been 
committed at the instance of authorities higher than the 
presiding judge, and thus assume the form of conspiracy. 
Thousands of men have been elevated to judicial positions, 
not by reason of their legal knowledge or honorable character, 
but rather because they were corrupt at heart and could be 
used to further the murderous schemes of king, queen or prime 
minister. In the nature of things, judicial murders can easily 
be perpetrated without the fact becoming public, and probably 
not one instance in ten has ever come to the light. 

The most sweeping, wholesale condemnations to death, 
under the forms of law, of men whose conviction and death 
had already been determined upon and whose trial was a 
hideous farce, occurred under the 4 ‘ Reign of Terror, * ’ during 
the French Revolution. Hundreds, thousands, of men and 
women, some guilty, most of them innocent, were condemned 
and guillotined. To be denounced by one of “the leaders of 
the people” was equivalent to a sentence of death. The 
judges generally did their work willingly enough, for the 
impulse to kill had fairly become epidemic, and ran riot 
through Paris. An honest and unbiased judge could not, 
however, have done otherwise—and retained his own life. 
Trials were conducted in the most abitrary manner, and judg¬ 
ments rendered without the slightest reference to either the 
law or the evidence. While such proceedings cannot be too 
strongly condemned, it must be remembered that they 
occurred at a time which suggests the words of Marc 
Antony upon the occasion of the assassination of Julius Caesar: 
“Oh, Judgment! thou hast fled to brutish beasts, and men 
have lost their reason! ’ ’ 

The most systematic and wholesale judicial murders that 
have occurred in modern times, were committed in England 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


i 73 


during the latter part of the seventeenth century. Although 
occurring more than a hundred years before those of the 
French Revolution, they excite greater wonder, because they 
were perpetrated in a time of comparative domestic peace, 
under a constitutional government, and in a country where 
trial by jury originated and has ever been treated with the 
most profound respect. While illustrating murder through 
motives of revenge, cupidity and the operation of the homi¬ 
cidal impulse, they likewise show to what extent notions of 
political liberty and religion can become perverted and 
debased. The first of two series of most outrageous judicial 
murders dated from the discovery of what has passed into 
history as “The Popish Plot.” This was in the year 
1678. At this time England was tom by dissensions. Charles 
II. sat upon the throne that had been made vacant by the 
execution of his father. The triumph of the Puritan party 
and the Commonwealth, under the direction of Oliver 
Cromwell, were things of the recent past. Charles was sus¬ 
pected of being a Papist, while his brother James, the direct 
heir to the throne, was a pronounced Catholic. Less than a 
century and a half had elapsed since the Protestant Reforma¬ 
tion had shown itself in England, and religious feeling, not to 
say bigotry, was at its flood-tide. The Protestant element, 
which largely predominated, feared that, with James upon the 
throne, a long line of Catholic rulers might be fastened upon 
the nation. A feeling of uncertainty and unrest was every¬ 
where present. Hatred of the Catholic religion had become a 
positive passion. Nor was this confined to men truly reli¬ 
gious; it pervaded all grades of society, and affected the 
irreligious and profane to a greater extent, even, than those 
who were Protestant from genuine religious conviction. The 
cruelties of the reign of “Bloody Mary,” the numerous con¬ 
spiracies against Elizabeth, the famous Gunpowder Plot, and 
various other occurrences of lesser note, so far from being 
forgotten, were perpetuated and rendered living forces by 
annual commemorations, prayers, bonfires and parades. 
Much of the hatred that had been bestowed upon Puritanism 
was transferred to the adherents of the See of Rome. In 


174 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


brief, the feeling against Catholics was exceedingly bitter, 
and everywhere plainly outspoken. 

It is necessary also that the reader have some sort of 
understanding of the political condition of England at this 
period, else he would fail to appreciate the high tension to 
which the people were strung. At this time, the nation was 
divided into two great political parties. The Whigs took their 
name from the rustics of the Western Lowlands, who had long 
been known by that term. They were zealots in the Protes¬ 
tant cause, and strenuously objected to a Catholic prince sit¬ 
ting on the throne of England and Scotland. The term Tory 
was derived from certain Papish outlaws who took refuge in 
the bogs of Ireland and successfully defied the authorities. 
From this beginning, the name Tory spread over the king¬ 
dom, and came to include, not alone Catholics, but all those 
who did not join in the popular movement to render Roman 
Catholic princes ineligible to the throne. 

The “Popish Plot,” which shook England to its founda¬ 
tions, and has left a distinct effect upon English opinions, 
plainly discernible even at the present day, was the discovery, 
or more properly, the invention, of one Titus Oates. This 
man, whose name has become a synonym for perjury, was a 
clergyman of the Church of England. He had led a most 
depraved life, which culminated in his being compelled to 
give up his benefice and lead a wandering, vagrant sort of life. 
During this time he went to the Continent, where he pro¬ 
fessed the Roman Catholic religion, and became connected 
with various Jesuit colleges. There, it appears, he had heard 
much discussion as to the best means to reclaim England to 
the original church. These hints were enough to furnish a 
starting point for one of the inventive and corrupt mind of 
Oates. Upon his return to England he announced himself 
as a Protestant, and secured a minor position in the church, 
which brought him but a trifle in the way of money, not suf¬ 
ficient to enable him to indulge his depraved and vicious 
tastes. 

In the latter part of September, 1678, Titus decided that 
the time was ripe for the hideous plot he had long been cun- 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


175 


ningly devising, and he proceeded to give it publicity. He 
declared that the Pope had given the Jesuits absolute control 
of England, with authority to do what they pleased and to 
subject it to themselves. He claimed that this society had 
already apportioned all the official positions, civil as well as 
religious, among well known and trusted Catholics, who were 
only awaiting a favorable opportunity to enter into their pos¬ 
session. He pointed out that the Papists had burned London 
only twenty years before, and declared that they were mak¬ 
ing ready to do it again. They were only awaiting an 
agreed signal to rise and put all Protestants to death, while a 
French army was, simultaneously, to be landed in Ireland. 
As for the King, his doom was sealed, many sub-plots having 
been formed for his assassination by the poniard, the pistol 
and poisoning. Such was the state of the public mind, that 
his grossly improbable lies found ready, eager credence, and 
something like a panic swept over the city of London, and 
gradually spread throughout all England. Fortunately for 
Oates and the success of his infamous scheme, which had no 
higher aim than to make money and notoriety for himself, 
two incidents happened at this time which tended to reinforce 
his statements. 

One Edward Coleman, a somewhat suspicious Catholic 
intriguer, was arrested upon information furnished by Oates. 
He had destroyed the greater portion of his papers, but among 
those seized were a few which, when liberally interpreted, 
seemed to confirm some of the statements made by the 
enterprising Titus. What, the people reasoned, must have 
been the character of those documents committed to the 
flames, when those he had not thought necessary to destroy 
were incriminating? This raised the informer in the popular 
estimation. The deposition of Oates against Coleman had 
been made before Sir Edmondsbury Godfrey, an eminent and 
very moderate justice of the peace, and a few days thereafter 
he mysteriously disappeared. Search being made, his corpse 
was found in an open field near London. It was certain that 
he had been murdered, and equally sure that the crime had 
not been committed for purposes of gain. His death remains 


17 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


to this day one of the dark mysteries so frequently to be met 
with in the history of homicide. All sorts of theories were 
suggested. Some said that he was a suicide; some that a 
private enemy had killed him from motives of revenge; 
others that Oates had had him put to death to sustain his own 
disclosures; while the general opinion was that the justice had 
fallen a victim to Popish revenge, and that this was the begin¬ 
ning of the great plot. Certain it is that everybody took the 
alarm; Papists were arrested by hundreds, and the jails were 
overcrowded; the streets were barricaded in places; the train- 
bands were constantly on duty; cannon were placed around 
Whitehall; everybody went armed; the Houses of Parliament 
were heavily guarded to prevent a second Gunpowder Plot. 

In the meantime, Titus had secured no letters patent to 
protect his great invention, and numerous aspiring imitators 
came forward to divide his doubtful “honors,” and reap a 
portion of his prospective pecuniary profits. One knew of an 
army of thirty thousand men that was about to descend upon 
Wales; another had been offered a large sum, and a certain 
place among the blessed saints, if he would murder King 
Charles, while still another had heard a prominent Catholic 
banker swear to kill the usurping tyrant. But Oates had no 
idea of being dispossessed of his preempted rights, and 
speedily came forward with a set of lies more absurd than he 
had at first dared to offer. These were eagerly listened to, 
and bodily swallowed, so great was the general alarm. 

Then began vengeance, and judicial murder walked 
rampant. The Whigs encouraged the movement, and found 
ready tools in the chief judges of the realm, who were at once 
corrupt, cruel and cowardly. The leading men of England no 
doubt believed the whole story to be pure fiction, but it pro¬ 
vided a means to rid themselves of some of their enemies, and 
they professed the most complete faith. Oates and his con¬ 
federates were now in the greatest demand. Two witnesses 
were necessar}’’ to secure a conviction of treason, and these 
were always forthcoming. Among them all, Oates was the 
acknowledged leader. Cunning and shameless, he perjured 
himself with an ease and versatility that would have done 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


177 


credit to the Father of Lies. The juries were made up of men 
violently prejudiced and badly frightened, while the judges, 
wLLout regard to the character of the witnesses or the 
insufficiency of the evidence, constantly advised, and in some 
cases forced, verdicts of guilty, which received the plaudits of 
the multitude. As a result of the Popish Plot, large numbers 
of men, some of them occupying positions of distinction, 
nearly all of whom were doubtless entirely innocent, were 
murdered. 

After a time, however, the inevitable reaction began to set 
in, and an accusation was no longer equivalent to a convic¬ 
tion. Oates and his colleagues had not lost the art of lying, 
but the people were becoming less credulous. 

This reaction finally carried down the men who had 
engineered the plot, and with them Oates himself. Retribu¬ 
tion did not, however, overtake the infamous perjurer until 
Charles was dead, and his Catholic brother, James, had 
ascended the throne. Not long before his ascension James 
had brought a civil suit against Oates, and had secured a ver¬ 
dict in the enormous sum of a hundred thousand pounds. He 
was committed to prison as a debtor, and was without hope of 
release. 

Oates was brought to trial on two charges of perjury. “It 
was proved beyond all possibility of doubt,” wrote Lord 
Macaulay, “that this man had by false testimony deliberately 
murdered several guiltless persons. He called in vain upon 
the most eminent members of the Parliaments which had 
rewarded and extolled him, to give evidence in his favor. 
Some of those whom he had summoned absented themselves. 
None of them said anything tending to his vindication. One 
of them, the Earl of Huntingdon, bitterly reproached him 
with having deceived the Houses and drawn on them the guilt 
of shedding innocent blood. The judges browbeat and reviled 
the prisoner with an intemperance which, even in the most 
atrocious cases, ill becomes the judicial character. He 
betrayed, however, no sign of fear, or of shame, and faced 
the storm of invective which burst upon him from the bar, 
bench, and witness box, with the insolence of despair. He 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


178 

was convicted on both indictments. His offense, though, in a 
moral light, murder of the most aggravated kind, was, in the 
eye of the law, merely a misdemeanor. The tribunal, how¬ 
ever, was desirous to make his punishment more severe than 
that of felons or traitors, and not merely to put him to death, 
but to put him to death by frightful torments. He was sen¬ 
tenced to be stripped of his clerical habit, to be pilloried in 
Palace Yard, to be led round Westminster Hall with an 
inscription declaring his infamy over his head, to be pilloried 
again in front of the Royal Exchange, to be whipped from 
Aldgate to Newgate, and, after an interval of two days, to be 
whipped from Newgate to Tyburn. If, against all proba¬ 
bility, he should happen to survive this horrible infliction, he 
was to be kept close prisoner during life. Five times every 
year he was to be brought forth from his dungeon and exposed 
on the pillory in different parts of the capital. 

“This rigorous sentence was rigorously executed. On the 
day on which Oates was to be pilloried in Palace Yard he was 
mercilessly pelted and ran some risk of being pulled in pieces. 
But in the city his partisans mustered in great force, raised a 
riot, and upset the pillory. They were, however, unable to 
rescue their favorite. It was supposed that he would try to 
escape the horrible doom which awaited him by swallowing 
poison. All that he ate and drank was therefore carefully 
inspected. On the following morning he was brought forth to 
undergo his first flogging. At an early hour an innumerable 
multitude filled all the streets from Aldgate to the Old Bailey. 
The hangman laid on the lash with such unusual severity as 
showed that he had received special instructions. The blood 
ran down in rivulets. For a time the criminal showed a 
strange constancy; but at last his stubborn fortitude gave 
way. His bellowings were frightful to hear. He swooned 
several times; but the scourge still continued to descend. 
When he was unbound, it seemed that he had borne as much 
as the human frame can bear without dissolution. James was 
entreated to remit the second flogging. His answer was short 
and clear: ‘He shall go through with it if he has breath in his 
body.’ An attempt was made to obtain the Queen’s inter- 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


179 


cession; but she indignantly refused to say a word in favor of 
such a wretch. After an interval of forty-eight hours, Oates 
was again brought out of his dungeon. He was unable to 
stand, and it was necessary to drag him to Tyburn on a 
sledge. He was quite insensible; and the Tories reported 
that he had stupefied himself with strong drink. A person 
who counted the stripes on the second day said that they were 
seventeen hundred. The bad man escaped with life, but so 
narrowly that his ignorant and bigoted admirers thought his 
recovery miraculous, and appealed to it as a proof of his inno¬ 
cence. The doors of the prison closed upon him. During 
many months he remained ironed in the darkest hole of New¬ 
gate. It was said that in his cell he gave himself up to 
melancholy, and sat whole days uttering deep groans, his arms 
folded, and his hat pulled over his eyes. ’ ’ 

For three and a half years this infamous wretch sat in his 
cell at Newgate, except when placed in the pillory. In the 
interest of justice he should have been suffered to die there. 
But many fanatics still regarded him as a martyr, and after 
William and Mary ascended the throne, a movement was 
started to secure his release on the ground that his sentence 
to perpetual imprisonment was unlawful. After a legal 
struggle, almost without parallel in the judicial history of 
England, and which involved a hard conflict between the two 
Houses of Parliament, the Lords bitterly opposing his release, 
Oates was given his freedom. Not satisfied with this, the 
House of Commons took up his cause and secured him a pen¬ 
sion of about three hundred pounds a year. After an effort to 
get himself reinstated in the Established Church, he became a 
devout Baptist. His real character was soon discovered, 
however, and he was expelled from the society. He died at 
the advanced age of eighty-six years. 

The religious system of the Parsees, or Fire Worshipers, 
accounts for the existence of evil in the world on the theory 
that there were two creators, both subject to the “Supreme 
Essence, ’ ’ one of whom, Ormuzd, brought into being all good 
and desirable things, while the other, Ahriman, was engaged 
in creating evil things to offset their effect. The lives of mil- 


i8o 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


lions of men have been compliments to human nature, but 
seemingly as large a number have been engaged in offsetting 
the good accomplished by their virtuous brothers, and in 
lowering the standard of genuine manhood. Among all the 
detestable wretches whose lives have darkened the pages of 
history since the days of Commodus, not one is more univer¬ 
sally and justly maligned and detested than George Jeffreys, of 
all the dishonest, inhuman judges who ever dispensed justice 
—or rather, dispensed with justice—undoubtedly the first and 
foremost. His depravity has passed into a proverb, and among 
the various political parties and religious faiths of England, or 
indeed, the civilized world, no voice is ever raised, no pen ever 
employed to defend or vindicate his memory. So remarkable 
was this man’s career of infamy, so brutal his conduct, and so 
entirely was he subject to the fiendish impulse to take human 
life, that some account of his character and judicial methods 
cannot fail to interest and instruct. The following is quoted 
from Thomas Babington Macaulay, one of the best of all recent 
chroniclers of English history. 

“He was a man of quick and vigorous parts, but constitu¬ 
tionally prone to insolence and to angry passions. When j ust 
emerging from boyhood, he had risen into practice at the Old 
Bailey Bar, a bar where advocates have always used a license 
of tongue unknown in Westminster Hall. Here, during many 
years his chief business was to examine and cross-examine the 
most hardened miscreants of a great capital. Daily conflicts 
with prostitutes and thieves called out and exercised his 
powers so effectually that he became the most consummate 
bully ever known in his profession. Tenderness for others and 
respect for himself were feelings alike unknown to kim. He 
acquired a boundless command of the rhetoric in which the 
vulgar express hatred and contempt. The profusion of male¬ 
dictions and vituperative epithets which composed his vocabu¬ 
lary could hardly have been rivaled in the fish-market or the 
beer garden. His countenance and his voice must always have 
been unamiable. But these natural advantages,—for such he 
seems to have thought them,—he had improved to such a 
degree that there were few who, in his paroxysms of rage, 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


181 


could see or hear him without emotion. Impudence and 
ferocity sate upon his brow. The glare of his eyes had a 
fascination for the unhappy victim on whom they were fixed. 
Yet his brow and his eye were less terrible than the savage 
lines of his mouth. His yell of fury, as was said by one who 
had often heard it, sounded like the thunder of the judgment 
day. These qualifications he carried, while still a young man, 
from the bar to the bench. He early became Common Ser¬ 
geant, and then Recorder of London. As a judge at the City 
Sessions, he exhibited the same propensities which afterwards, 
in a higher post, gained for him an unenviable immortality. 
Already might be remarked in him the most odious vice 
which is incident to human nature, a delight in misery merely 
as misery. There was a fiendish exultation in the way in 
which he pronounced sentence on offenders. Their weeping 
and imploring seemed to titillate him voluptuously; and he 
loved to scare them into fits by dilating with luxuriant amplifi¬ 
cation on all the details of what they were to suffer. Thus, 
when he had an opportunity of ordering an unlucky adven¬ 
turess to be whipped at the cart’s tail, ‘Hangman,’ he would 
exclaim, ‘I charge you to pay particular attention to this lady! 
Scourge her soundly, man! Scourge her till the blood runs 
down! It is Christmas, a cold time for madame to strip in! 
See that you warm her shoulders thoroughly!’ He was 
hardly less facetious when he passed judgment on poor Lodo- 
wick Muggleton, the drunken tailor who fancied himself a 
prophet. ‘Impudent rogue!’ roared Jeffreys, ‘thou shalt 
have an easy, easy, easy punishment!’ One part of this easy 
punishment was the pillory, in which the wretched fanatic was 
almost killed with brick-bats. ’ ’ 

Such was the real character of the man chosen by James, 
Duke of York, to carry into effect the plans of revenge that he 
had formed against his enemies and against those who had 
been instrumental in persecuting Catholics. This will appear 
strange when it is understood that Jeffreys had announced 
himself as a Roundhead, and had taken a prominent part in 
condemning innocent men to death upon the perjured testi¬ 
mony of Oates and his ill-favored colleagues. More than 


182 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


that, Charles knew the real character of the unjust and 
tyrannical judge. Titus Oates never wearied of quoting a 
remark which the King applied to Jeffreys: “That man has no 
learning, no sense, no manners, and more impudence than ten 
carted street-walkers.” But James had work to do, and saw 
in Jeffreys the man to carry it forward, and he induced his 
brother to elevate him to the high position of Chief Justice of 
the king’s bench. It mattered little to this human monstrosity 
which side of any cause he espoused, so long as he was offered 
an opportunity of exercising his venomous hatred of human¬ 
kind and indulging the impulse to take life, which seems to 
have become a veritable passion with him. Accordingly, he 
entered with alacrity upon the discharge of his infamous 
duties. 

His first recompense for the high honor and magnificent 
emoluments that had been bestowed upon him, consisted in 
the judicial murder of Algernon Sidney, a grand-nephew of 
the famous Sir Philip Sidney, and one of the leading men of 
England. He was tried for high treason and convicted, 
under the direction of Jeffreys, upon the merest mockery of 
evidence. On the 7th of December, 1683, he was beheaded on 
Tower Hill. He met his death with the greatest fortitude, 
and has since been almost canonized in English hearts as a 
patriot, hero and martyr. So entirely satisfied was James 
with his bloody tool, that, soon after his elevation to the 
throne, he bestowed on him a peerage and a seat in the cabi¬ 
net. When it is understood that not since the thirteenth 
century had any chief-justice been permitted to sit in the 
House of Lords, it will be seen that James appreciated his 
avenger at his true worth; indeed, no two men in England 
were more completely of the same kidney. 

James had not long occupied the throne when an oppor¬ 
tunity to utilize the services of Jeffreys and wreak a deep 
revenge upon those whom he regarded as his enemies pre¬ 
sented itself. During the lifetime of Charles II., a great deal of 
trouble had been caused by James, Duke of Monmouth, a 
natural son of the King, who, by his humanity in treating the 
Scotch Covenanters in 1659, had become the idol of the non- 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


183 

conformists. By 1680 he had become the most popular man 
in the kingdom. For intriguing to seat himself upon the 
throne he was arrested in 1682. He acknowledged himself 
guilty of participation in the famous Rye House plot to seize 
the King’s person and subvert his government, meanly involv¬ 
ing many of his friends and supporters. Pardoned by Charles 
on his solemn promise to reform and loyally support the Duke 
of York, should he ever ascend the throne, Monmouth fled to 
Antwerp. Soon after the death of his father in 1685, he 
landed at Lynn-Regis and issued a manifesto declaring James 
a usurper and Papist, and asserting his own legitimate 
right to the throne. He raised an army and gave battle to 
the King, but was ignominiously defeated, and proved himself 
a coward by leading the general flight. He was convicted of 
high treason and executed on Tower Hill, the executioner 
performing his task so unskilfully that five blows were struck 
before his head fell. 

This was the opportunity of the revengeful James. Many 
of the adherents of Monmouth had been in strong sympathy 
with the plot of Titus Oates, and retribution in kind seems to 
have been deliberately planned. In the meantime, a brutal 
soldiery, under the leadership of Col. Percy Kirke, a most 
debased and inhuman officer, were wreaking direful vengeance 
in the west of England, where the insurrection had assumed 
the most formidable proportions. Hundreds, probably thou¬ 
sands, were thus inhumanly put to death, without the slight¬ 
est form of trial. The slaughter over—and, in the nature of 
things, it could not be long sustained—the “forms of law” 
were appealed to, and that in a way that wrought direful 
vengeance on the unhappy accused, and, at the same time, 
covered the judiciary of England with dark and lasting dis¬ 
grace. 

In one respect Kirke had displeased James; he had mur¬ 
dered large numbers of poor and humble people, but had 
generally spared the rich and powerful. Hundreds of the 
last-named class had, however, been arrested, and the jails of 
Somersetshire and Dorsetshire were literally packed with 
prisoners. These were the people whom James most desired 


184 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


to reach. He made no immediate movement, but allowed 
several weeks to pass before starting in motion the wheels of 
the legal machinery that was to crush those ardent Protestants 
who had espoused the cause of his nephew, Monmouth. 

Early in September, 1685, several carriages, strongly 
escorted with military, set out from London for the “West 
Country.” They contained, beside the infamous Jeffreys, 
four other judges, the most cruel and unscrupulous that could 
be mustered, though saints in comparison with the chief- 
justice. They were to act under his direction, and great 
results were confidently expected by the revengeful King and 
his party. We shall soon see that the confidence of the 
monarch had not been misplaced. Yet, depraved as James 
knew his tool to be, he seems to have been doubtful whether 
he would be severe and relentless enough. A few days after 
the five licensed murderers had quitted London on this 
sanguinary errand, Francis North, Lord Guilford, Keeper of 
the Great Seal, died of mortification and disgust caused by the 
treatment he had received at the hands of the King, and par¬ 
ticularly at the disgrace that his high office was falling into 
through the outrageous acts of the chief-justice. James at 
once dispatched a courier bearing a letter to Jeffreys, 
announcing Lord Guilford’s demise, and assuring him that, if 
he dispatched his business to the exact taste of the King, he 
might expect the Great Seal as his reward. It is doubtful 
whether a man with the homicidal impulse developed as it was 
in Jeffreys needed any stimulus to do the work that had been 
assigned him. The fact is noted as showing that the element 
of cupidity probably entered into the awful judicial murders 
which speedily followed. 

It was at Winchester, in Hampshire, that Jeffreys opened 
his commission and made ready to set up his judicial shambles. 
This shire had witnessed none of the bloody scenes of the 
rebellion, but many refugees had fled thither and been 
arrested and thrown into jails. It seems fitting to the char¬ 
acter of the chief-justice and the detestable nature of his 
errand, that the first victim of his mingled cruelty, avarice, 
desire for notoriety and homicidal impulse, should have been 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


1S5 

a woman — charitable, hospitable, virtuous, universally 
respected and absolutely guiltless of wrong-doing, much less 
of the crime of treason. This woman was Alice Lisle, the 
aged widow of John Lisle, who had sat in the Long Parliament 
and in the High Court of Justice, for which reason she was 
known as “Lady Alice.” This excellent woman had many 
friends among the Tories. She had deeply regretted the 
course of her husband, had shed tears over the execution of 
Charles I., and often relieved distressed cavaliers. Two 
fugitives, John Hickes, a nonconformist divine, and Richard 
Nelthorpe, a lawyer, applied to her for relief. She gave them 
food and showed them where they might sleep. In this she 
seems to have been actuated only by the common, but none 
the less highly commendable, impulse of hospitality. In the 
morning her house was surrounded by soldiers. They found 
Hickes in the malt-house, and dragged Nelthorpe from the 
chimney. For this offense she was placed on trial for her life. 

If it could have been proven that she knew the men she had 
succored to have committed a capital crime she would have 
been technically guilty as an accessory after the fact. But 
this was not established. She admitted that she knew Hickes 
was in trouble of some sort, but swore that she had enter¬ 
tained no idea that he had, in any way, participated in the 
rebellion. She only knew him as a clergyman and a devout 
Christian, and supposed he was wanted for having preached in 
the fields. Nelthorpe she did not know, and had not even 
inquired his name. In this case she but followed the Scottish 
custom, where the name of an unknown guest was not asked, 
lest he should prove an hereditary foe and necessitate his 
being sent away hungry. 

“ Such was the reverence for a guest, 

That fellest foe might join the feast 
And from his deadliest foeman’s door 
Unquestioned turn the banquet o’er.” 

When it is .remembered that no acts of violence had 
occurred in the section where Lady Alice resided, and that the 
names of the persons found upon her premises were in no 
proclamation, it seems entirely probable that she told the 


i86 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


exact truth, and was absolutely innocent. In any event, her 
offense was of a slight, we might almost say, amiable, character. 
The strong point made in her defense was that, inasmuch as 
neither Nelthorpe nor Hickes had been brought to trial, she 
could not legally be put in jeopardy of her life as an accessory 
to their crimes. This should have led to her immediate dis¬ 
missal. To Jeffreys this point was a mere bagatelle, and was 
overruled, with curses. 

So strong was the sympathy for the unfortunate lady, that 
even the Tory witnesses hesitated to perjure themselves by 
testifying against her. The jury was made up of reputable 
men, who, though devoted to the cause of James, were men of 
honor, and shrank from their odious task. But for Jeffreys, 
she would have been instantly acquitted. He stormed, raved 
and blasphemed. “But I will tell you,’’ he shouted, “there is 
not one of those lying, snivelling, canting Presbyterians but, 
one way or another, had a hand in the rebellion. Presbytery 
has all manner of villainy in it. Show me a Presbyterian, and 
I’ll show you a lying knave.’’ For a full hour he continued 
his violent and blasphemous diatribe. He reminded the jury 
that the prisoner’s husband had borne a part in the execution 
of Charles I., a fact that had not been proven and would have 
been irrelevant if it had been shown. The jury were out a 
long time, and Jeffreys sent for them and heaped torrents of 
abuse upon their heads for not agreeing to a verdict of guilty. 
Doubtless the twelve men saw .arrest and prosecution before 
them if they refused to comply. With most of us, fear is a 
stronger incentive to action than a sense of honor. At last 
they yielded, and reluctantly returned a verdict of guilty. 

That the chief-justice meant to earn the Great Seal and at 
the same time gratify his depraved and malevolent heart, is 
evident from the sentence which he gleefully and profanely 
pronounced the following morning. He directed that Alice 
Lisle should be burned alive at the stake that very afternoon. 
Like crime, cruelty must be educated and developed. Jeffreys 
himself was a past-master in the art, and not only understood, 
but fairly reveled in its refinements; but the Tories of 
Hampshire had yet much to learn in that direction, and the 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


187 


dreadful sentence aroused their sleeping humanity and pro¬ 
voked their indignation. The clergy of Winchester Cathedral 
remonstrated vigorously, and Jeffreys, who, though bent on 
murder in its most horrible form, was not entirely destitute of 
prudence, reluctantly consented to postpone the execution for 
five days. This brief respite was employed to urge the royal 
clemency. Many prominent people interested themselves in 
her behalf; among these, Clarendon, theKing’s brother-in-law, 
pleaded her cause. But James was bent on “feeding fat” 
his deep-seated revenge. The chief-justice was doing his 
duty, and he proposed to support him. The best that he could 
be induced to do was to commute her sentence from burning 
to death by the axe. She was executed in the market-place of 
Winchester, and met her fate with lofty courage. 

The Bloody Assizes were now fairly inaugurated. Jeffreys 
had set a pattern for his associates in the business, which they 
were not slow in imitating. The harvest was ready and, 
although the reapers were few, they were eager for the labor 
and understood the art of dispatching business with the least 
possible loss of time. The chief-justice tried no more prison¬ 
ers in Hampshire, but, after witnessing, with every indication 
of intense satisfaction, the execution of his first victim, passed 
on to Dorchester, the principal town of the county in which 
Monmouth had landed. As if to foreshadow the awful 
slaughter he had planned, Jeffreys ordered the court-room to 
be hung with scarlet. The people noted this, and an awed 
hush, broken only with hoarse whispers, fell upon the town. 
More than three hundred cases of treason were on the trial 
docket. Such an array of prisoners would have dismayed an 
ordinary scoundrel, but it produced no other effect upon the 
chief-justice than to start his inventive wits into action. His 
plan was speedily matured. He gave it out that the only chance 
of securing clemency was for the accused to plead guilty and 
throw themselves upon the mercy of the court. Over two 
hundred and fifty caught at the bait and received the kind of 
mercy that a cat bestows upon a captive mouse. Twenty-nine 
persons who put themselves upon the country—i. e., elected to 
stand trial—were convicted and executed without delay. Of 


iS 8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the three hundred prisoners, two hundred and ninety-two 
received sentence of death. The whole number hanged in 
Dorsetshire reached the respectable total of seventy-four. 

After a brief stay in Exeter, the leading town of Devon¬ 
shire, where the rebellion had gained little foothold, but where 
he secured a few victims, the avenging judge, like a second 
“Scourge of God,” passed on into Somersetshire. Here he 
was in his proper element, and literally gloated over the 
bloody harvest he was to reap. Somersetshire had been the 
hotbed of the rebellion, and it was here that James had 
directed the vengeance to fall heaviest. In the whole history 
of fallen man, from murderous Cain down to our own time, no 
human being has probably ever lived who so nearly typified 
the Arch Fiend exulting over a lost soul, as did George 
Jeffreys upon this occasion. The homicidal impulse seems to 
have gained absolute control over him. 

“The chief-justice was all himself,” wrote Lord Macaulay. 
“His spirits rose higher and higher as the work went on. He 
laughed, shouted, joked, and swore in such a way that many 
thought him drunk, from morning to night. But in him it 
was not easy to distinguish the madness produced by evil pas¬ 
sions from the madness produced from brandy. A prisoner 
affirmed that the witnesses who appeared against him were not 
entitled to credit. One of them he said was a Papist, and 
another a prostitute. ‘Thou impudent rebel,’ exclaimed the 
judge, ‘to reflect on the king’s evidence! I see thee, villain, I 
see thee already with the halter round thy neck!’ Another 
produced testimony that he was a good Protestant. ‘Protes¬ 
tant!’said Jeffreys; ‘you mean Presbyterian. I’ll hold you a 
wager of it. I can smell a Presbyterian forty miles.’ One 
wretched man moved the pity even of the bitter Tories. ‘My 
lord,’ they said, ‘this poor creature is on the parish.’ ‘Do not 
trouble yourselves,’ said the judge, ‘I will ease the parish of 
the burden. ’ It was not only against the prisoners that his 
fury broke forth. Gentlemen and noblemen of high considera¬ 
tion and stainless loyalty, who ventured to bring to his notice 
any extenuating circumstances, were almost sure to receive 
what he called, in the coarse dialect which he had learned in 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


189 


the pot-houses of Whitechapel, a lick with the rough side of 
his tongue. Lord Stawell, a Tory peer, who could not conceal 
his horror at the remorseless manner in which his poor neigh¬ 
bors were butchered, was punished by having a corpse 
suspended in chains at his park gate. In such spectacles orig¬ 
inated many tales of terror, which were long told over the cider 
by the Christmas fires of the farmers of Somersetshire. Within 
the last forty years, peasants, in some districts, well knew 
the accursed spots, and passed them unwillingly after sunset.” 

The accused were given short shrift in Somersetshire. 
Within a few days two hundred and thirty-three victims were 
tried, convicted, hanged and drawn and quartered. The 
whole country was reduced to one vast charnel house; not a 
place in all the shire where two roads met, not a market-place 
or village, but what corpses swung in irons and human heads 
and quarters hung on lofty poles, poisoning the air and horri¬ 
fying the populace. For a generation, the people of Somerset¬ 
shire did not recover from the awful shock. 

To describe in anything like detail the hundreds of cases 
disposed of by Jeffreys and his colleagues upon this memorable 
assize, would far transcend our available space; but a few 
special cases of interest may be mentioned as illustrating the 
depravity of the wretch. 

At the battle of Sedgemoor a religious zealot named Abra¬ 
ham Holmes had been taken prisoner. He refused to 
acknowledge the authority of James, affirming that he would 
own no king but King Jesus. The execution of this man 
showed him to be possessed of high faith and indomitable 
courage. Indeed, the latter had been made manifest upon 
the battle-field. His arm had been fearfully mangled, and, 
there being no surgeon at hand, he proceeded to amputate it 
himself. Carried up to London, he was examined by the 
King himself. “I am an aged man,” he said to James, “and 
what remains to me of life is not worth a falsehood or a base¬ 
ness. I have always been a republican, and I am so still.” 
The King manifested no mercy, but sent him back to the 
West, where Jeffreys speedily condemned him. The horses 
that were to draw Holmes to the place of execution balked 


190 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


and refused to be driven forward. “Stop, gentlemen,” cried 
the condemned man, who doubted not that an angel with a 
flaming sword, invisible to human eyes, stood in the way, “let 
me go on foot. There is more in this than you think. 
Remember how the ass saw him whom the prophet could not 
see.” He mounted the ladder leading to the gallows awk¬ 
wardly, and offered this apology: “You see, I have but one 
arm.” Holmes may have been a fanatic, but he was a brave 
man, and died manfully in the cause of his religion. Readers 
of Conan Doyle’s “Micah Clarke” will recognize him in one of 
the characters of that entertaining novel. 

Something of romance touched the case of Christopher 
Battiscombe, a young gentleman of family, fortune and refine¬ 
ment, who was condemned by the chief-justice at Dorchester. 
It appears that he was affianced to a most worthy young lady, 
a sister of the sheriff. She appealed to Jeffreys for clemency 
for her lover, but the beast drove her from him with a brutal 
and indecent jest. Young Battiscombe met death with a 
most supreme Christian fortitude. 

The fate of the brothers Hewling excited widespread 
interest, and well-nigh universal commiseration. They were 
young, highly accomplished, and moved in the very best 
society. One of the leading merchants of London and the 
recognized head of the English Baptists, Kiffin by name, was 
their maternal grandfather. Of the two brothers, William and 
Benjamin, the former was first placed on trial. He furnished 
a bright and shining mark for Jeffreys, who hurled at him his 
most cruel shafts of sarcasm and Whitechapel wit. In passing 
sentence of death he brutally remarked: “You have a grand¬ 
father who deserves to be hanged as richly as you.” 

Although only a lad of nineteen, William met his death 
with such meekness and fortitude as to melt the hearts of all 
the witnesses of his tragic end. A decided revulsion of feel¬ 
ing manifested itself, and strong efforts were made to save the 
life of Benjamin. The matter became a topic of general 
conversation, and it -was everywhere agreed that one youthful 
victim was surely a fair quota for one family to furnish. To 
the surprise of everybody, Jeffreys recommended leniency. 


JUDICIAL MURDER 


191 

Lest the reader conclude that there was in this man’s breast a 
spark of humanity, and that he was sometimes willing to 
forego the satisfaction of his murderous instinct, the reason of 
his pretended decency should be stated. A kinsman of the 
chief-justice entered an impassioned appeal for the stricken 
family. From this kinsman, who was immensely rich, 
Jeffreys had large expectations, and he yielded in deference 
to that. Did cupidity triumph over the impulse to take human 
life? it may be asked. No; much as he loved money, the 
latter passion was the one’that ruled his infamous life. Jeffreys, 
better than any one in England, knew the hard, revengeful 
heart of his royal master, and assumed little risk of losing his 
prey by playing for his inheritance. Although strongly 
pressed, James proved as cold and inflexible as marble. Ben¬ 
jamin Hewling was judicially murdered, and so dauntless was 
his courage, so high his hopes of an immortal life, that all 
about the gallows, including some of the hardened soldiers 
who guarded it, were moved to tears. 

Jeffreys often boasted that he was the most loyal subject of 
the realm, because he had put to death more traitors than all 
of his predecessors put together, since the Norman conquest. 
“It is certain,’’ says Lord Macaulay, “that the number of 
persons whom he put to death in one month, and in one shire, 
very much exceeded the number of all the political offenders 
who have been put to death in our island since the Revolution. 
The rebellions of 1715 and 1745 were of longer duration, of 
wider extent, and of more formidable aspect than that which 
was put down at Sedgemoor. It has not been generally 
thought that, either after the rebellion of 1715, or after the 
rebellion of 1745, the House of Hanover erred on the side of 
clemency. Yet all the executions of 1715 and 1745 added 
together will appear to have been few indeed when compared 
with those which disgraced the Bloody Assizes. The number 
of the rebels whom Jeffreys hanged on this circuit was three 
hundred and twenty.’’ 

Macaulay had access to the best authorities and may well 
be trusted on most statistical points, yet Bishop Gilbert Bur¬ 
net, who was a contemporary of Jeffreys, and one of the fore- 


192 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


most men in England, places the number murdered on that 
terrible circuit at fully six hundred. 

In addition to the number put to death by order of the 
chief-justice, he transported eight hundred and forty-one. It 
may be thought that these do not fall within the category of 
judicial murders. Such an assumption is entirely wrong. 
Without exaggeration, it may be said that death upon the 
gallows was preferable to such a fate. These wretched men 
were divided up into gangs and given as slaves to court favor¬ 
ites to be transported to some one of the West India Islands, 
where, amid awful privations and subject to the most inhuman 
treatment, they were to die lingering, horrible deaths. 

Those who have carefully read this brief, yet, we believe, 
entirely impartial, account of the famous Bloody Assizes, will 
surely be convinced that the world is growing better. Such 
proceedings would not be permitted in any civilized nation at 
the present day. More than that, such a ruler as James could 
not sit upon a throne to raise to a high judicial position a 
second George Jeffreys. Bad men, with murderous hearts, 
we still have with us, but the general sentiment of mankind 
has become so far elevated that they can no longer employ 
forms of law to gratify their revenge and general disposition 
to destroy their fellows. 

Something of the further history and final ending of this 
great judicial monstrosity will prove of interest and serve to 
“point the moral” of this most sanguinary chapter. For some 
time he continued to serve his master, James, rendering many 
unjust decisions and never missing an opportunity to send an 
unhappy wretch to the scaffold. He was obliged to use the 
utmost precaution, however, to save himself from assassina¬ 
tion, particularly at the hands of the people of Somersetshire, 
who regarded him with a hatred and loathing that is abso¬ 
lutely without a parallel in the entire history of England. 
Upon his return from the West he was received by James with 
open arms. The Great Seal was placed in his hands at 
Windsor, and the London Gazette solemnly announced that he 
had been made Lord Chancellor as a reward for the many and 
eminent services he had rendered to the Crown. Numerous 



JEFFREYS INSPECTING HIS PRESENT.—PAGE IQ3 




























































































































































































JUDICIAL MURDER 


i 93 


other honors were showered upon him by the King. He was 
made President of the Court of High Commission, and Lord 
Lieutenant of two counties. James attempted to make him 
Chancellor of the University of Oxford, but, happily, an irrevo¬ 
cable selection had been made before the royal mandate arrived, 
and the great university was saved from lasting disgrace. 

Jeffrey’s end, while in no sense a sufficient punishment for 
his awful crimes, shows that wickedness is often overtaken 
with retribution. In 1688, the wicked James, no longer able 
to maintain his position as king, abdicated the throne and fled 
to France. When Jeffreys learned that he had left London, he 
was seized with consternation, and resolved to secure safety 
from the popular indignation by instant flight. He disguised 
himself as a common sailor, and made ready to quit the 
country. A man who had once been brought before the chief- 
justice and abused and reviled, saw him through the window 
of an ale-house, and, notwithstanding his excellent disguise, 
recognized his savage eye and brutal mouth. A mob set upon 
him, from which he was rescued with difficulty, and, at his 
own request, sent to the Tower. During the drive, his life 
was constantly menaced, and he begged piteously for protec¬ 
tion. The fury of the populace knew no bounds; all classes, 
sexes and conditions united in demanding his life. He had 
long been addicted to strong drink, and after his imprison¬ 
ment consumed enormous quantities of brandy. This aggra¬ 
vated an old internal complaint, and led to his speedy death. 
Shortly before the end came he was aroused from the stupor 
into which he was almost constantly plunged, by a present of 
what appeared to be a barrel of Colchester oysters, his favorite 
dainty. With shaking hands, he congratulated himself that 
he still had one friend remaining. He hastened to open 
the barrel, and found, among a lot of oyster shells, a rope with 
a well-tied hangman’s noose. He died a most miserable death 
on the eighteenth of April, 1689, in his forty-first year. His 
emaciated corpse was placed beside that of Monmouth in the 
chapel of the Tower, and the curtain was rung down upon one 
of the bloodiest dramas ever enacted upon the stage of English 
history. 


CHAPTER XII 
ASSASSINATION 

Of the manifold forms of murder, none is more detestable 
than that denominated assassination. To take the life of a 
human being as the result of a quarrel, or upon any occasion 
where the party assailed is conscious of the danger that con¬ 
fronts him, and is able to make some kind of defense, is bad 
enough, but it appears a minor offense when contrasted with 
shooting from ambush, stabbing in the back, murderously 
assaulting one wrapped in slumber or mixing poison with food 
offered in the sacred name of hospitality. A large proportion 
of homicides are, strictly speaking, assassinations, but the 
instances presented in the present, and ensuing chapters, will 
be restricted to those where the victims have been persons of 
distinction, as kings and other rulers; where the methods 
employed were of an unusual character, or where bodies of 
men have banded themselves for the purpose of perpetuating 
secret murder, as the Assassins, the Stranglers, and the 
Mafia. 

Assassination seems to be almost as old as the human race, 
and many pages of the Old Testament Scriptures are darkened 
with instances of secret murder, some of them of a most 
atrocious character. Of all the homicides of Bible times, none 
seems to have had a greater predisposition to take human life 
than Joab, the chief captain of David. Fierce and unmerciful 
in battle, he was hardly less so in times of peace, and more 
than once sorely grieved the heart of his royal master by 
yielding to the promptings of revenge. The assassination of 
Abner, who had been the captain of Saul’s host, by Joab, can 
hardly be surpassed for malice and treachery. 

Saul had been several years dead, and David was ruling 

194 


ASSASSINATION 


*95 


over Israel, but considerable feeling seems to have existed 
against those who had supported Saul in the struggle for the 
throne. Abner and some of his friends had met Joab, 
attended with a number of personal followers, beside the 
pool of Gibeon. At Abner’s suggestion, which was readily 
acquiesced in by Joab, twelve young men of each faction arose 
to play before the company. The’twelve followers of Joab, as 
seemingly prearranged, each seized one of the other party by 
the head and dispatched him by thrusting his sword into the 
side of the unsuspecting youth, who, in a spirit of amity and 
friendship, had placed himself in his power. As a matter of 
course, this led to a general affra3% in which Abner and his 
remaining adherents were worsted and put to flight. Abner 
was pursued by Asahel, a brother of Joab, who “was as light 
of foot as a wild roe.” Looking back, Abner repeatedly 
warned his pursuer to turn either to the right or left, but 
Asahel kept on in the race. At length Abner shouted to him: 
“Wherefore should I smite thee to the ground? how, then, 
should I hold up my head to Joab thy brother?” Asahel still 
pursuing, Abner, to defend his own life, halted suddenly, and 
“with the hinder part of the spear, smote him under the fifth 
rib, that the spear came out behind him; and he fell down 
there and died in the same place.” 

It is not strange that one of Joab’s fierce and revengeful 
temperament should be roused to fury by this act, although it 
was the legitimate result of his own treacherous, wholesale 
assassinations. Without the knowledge of King David, he 
sent messengers after Abner, who induced him to come into 
Hebron, the ancient capital of Palestine. When Abner 
arrived, Joab told him that he wished to speak with him in 
private, and led him aside, in the gate, where, without the 
slightest warning, he smote him under the fifth rib, exactly 
where the spear of Abner had struck his brother, Asahel, and 
he instantly died. David was sorely grieved at this act of 
treachery; he commanded Joab and all the people to wear 
sackcloth, and personally followed the body of the murdered 
man'to the grave. 

Joab was a great captain in times of war, and upon no 


196 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


other explanation can we account for the close relations that 
he long sustained to King David. And yet he brought down 
the gray hairs of the old king in sorrow to the grave, for he 
never recovered from the death of his best-beloved son, 
Absalom, who fell a victim to Joab’s impulse to take human 
life. The incident is too well remembered to require repeti¬ 
tion. The literature of the world hardly presents a spectacle 
of grief at once as deep and as lofty as that of the Hebrew 
king over the untimely death of his well-beloved son. 

Whether murder is ever justifiable, may well be doubted, 
yet we can hardly find it in our hearts to condemn or even 
strongly reproach the lovely Judith, who, at a sacrifice, which 
only a true woman can appreciate, invaded the camp and took 
the life of the wicked Holofernes. Holofernes was the general 
commanding the Assyrian army, which had been sent against 
Israel. This army had invaded Judea and besieged Bethulia. 
With their supply of water cut off and with little food at their 
command, the Israelites had small chance for escape; but 
delivery was at hand, in the person of a young and beautiful 
woman, Judith, the widow of Manasses. She realized that 
the welfare, the lives even, of her people depended upon 
immediate action; and, at the same time, knew that the army 
was entirely unable to successfully oppose the foreign invader. 
Realizing the desperate straits to which her people were 
reduced, she resolved upon a bold exploit, coupled with 
dangers and encompassed with most serious embarrassments. 
Accompanied only by a trusty maid, she sallied forth from the 
city and sought the camp of the Assyrian arn^. Here, she 
was at once presented to Holofernes, and passed some days in 
his company, always accompanied by her maid, and maintain¬ 
ing the strictest and most religious decorum. As might well 
have been expected, the mighty Assyrian captain fell violently 
in love with the youthful Jewish widow. At length her time 
arrived; Holofernes became drunk and stupid from the 
immoderate use of wine. As he slept, she approached his 
bed, took down his falchion, seized hold of the hair of his head 
and cried: “Strengthen me, O Lord, God of Israel, this 
day!” Then she struck with all her might, and with two 


ASSASSINATION 


197 


blows cut off the head of the wicked monster. Placing the 
head in a bag, in which they had brought their supply of food, 
the two women repaired to the city. Consternation seized 
upon the forces of the Assyrians, and they were easily put to 
flight by the Israelites, rendered courageous by the bold and 
self-sacrificing act of a woman. 

To write the history of assassination would be to outline the 
history of mankind; not that secret murder has been the prin¬ 
cipal business of the race, but rather, that in early days the 
fall of a king or prince essentially changed the present welfare 
and future prospects of their people. Many kings and 
potentates in the Oriental countries fell at the hands of 
assassins; poison being the means most commonly employed. 
A large number of the Emperors of Rome were thus removed 
from the scenes of their crimes, while not a few truly good 
rulers have, been assassinated. Julius Caesar fell beneath the 
daggers of his one-time friends and supporters, at the foot of 
Pompey’s statue. After that time, the Emperors felt all the 
anxiety that disturbs our modern czars, and guarded by every 
means in their power, against the knife and poisoned cup of 
the assassin, but too often in vain; the ambition of rivals, 
who were able to excite the venality of the rabble, and, more 
especially, the army, generally proving superior to all their 
precautions. 

A most inexcusable and sacrilegious assassination dese¬ 
crated Canterbury Cathedral, in England, and made it the 
meeting-place of no end of devout pilgrims who came thither 
to “view the holy, blissful martyr’s bones,” as old “Dan” 
Chaucer expresses it. Here, in the reign of that most ignoble 
and treacherous monarch, Henry II., Thomas a Becket, 
Archbishop of Canterbury, was brutally murdered. In sev¬ 
eral respects, this prelate was a most remarkable personage. 
In the first place, the incidents that led to his birth were of a 
character so romantic as to well rival the most remarkable 
instance in fiction. Doubt has been thrown on this story, 
which has been the theme of many poems, but it seems fairly 
well authenticated. It is told with many variations. We 
present it here substantially as related by the great novelist, 


198 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Charles Dickens, in his brief, but highly entertaining and 
instructive History of England. 

“Once upon a time, a worthy merchant of London, named 
Gilbert a Becket, made a pilgrimage to the Holy Land, and 
was taken prisoner by a Saracen lord. This lord, who 
treated him kindly, and not like a slave, had one fair 
daughter, who fell in love with the merchant; and who told 
him that she wanted to become a Christian and was willing 
to marry him if they could fly to a Christian country. The 
merchant returned her love, until he found an opportunity to 
escape, when he did not trouble himself about the Saracen 
lady, but escaped with his servant Richard, who had been 
taken prisoner along with him, and arrived in England and 
forgot her. The Saracen lady, who was more loving than the 
merchant, left her father’s house in disguise to follow him, 
and made her way, under many hardships, to the seashore. 
The merchant had taught her only two English words (for I 
suppose he must have learned the Saracen tongue himself, and 
made love in that language), of which London was one, and 
his own name, Gilbert, the other. She went among the ships, 
saying, ‘London! London!’ over and over again, until the 
sailors understood that she wanted to find an English ship 
that would carry her there; so they showed her such a ship, 
and she paid for her passage with some of her jewels, and 
sailed away. Well! The merchant was sitting in his count¬ 
ing house in London one day, when he heard a great noise in 
the street; and presently Richard came running in from the 
warehouse, with his eyes wide open and his breath most gone, 
saying, ‘ Master, master, here is the Saracen lady!’ The 
merchant thought Richard was mad; but Richard said, ‘No, 
master! As I live, the Saracen lady is going up and down the 
city, calling Gilbert! Gilbert!’ Then he took the merchant by 
the sleeve, and pointed out the window; and there they saw 
her among the gables and water-spouts of the dirty dark 
street, in her foreign dress, so forlorn, surrounded by a 
wondering crowd, and passing slowly along, calling Gilbert! 
Gilbert! When the merchant saw her, and thought of the 
tenderness she had shown him in his captivity, and of her 


ASSASSINATION 


*99 


constancy, his heart was moved, and he ran down into the 
street; and she saw him coming, and with a great cry fainted 
in his arms. They were married without loss of time, and 
Richard (who was an excellent man) danced with joy the 
whole day of the wedding; and they all lived happy ever 
afterward.” 

Thomas a Becket was the only son of this London merchant 
and his devoted Saracen wife; and his life, so romantically 
begun, was destined to fill many pages of the world’s history. 

As a young man, Thomas a Becket was brave, fighting 
several battles in France; courteous, being a general favorite 
with the gay and rather depraved court, and, on the whole, 
inclined to be decidedly dissolute. He early attracted the 
attention of King Henry, who was himself a depraved char¬ 
acter, and, besides, was at war with the clergy, and needed 
somebody to become his tool in keeping them in proper sub¬ 
jection. The King had made him chancellor and, as an 
ambassador to France, he had almost overwhelmed the people 
by the splendid state in which he traveled. Henry decided 
that here was a man to make Archbishop of Canterbury, the 
head of the Church in England. The King knew his chan¬ 
cellor intimately, and never once doubted that he was securing 
the willing and unscrupulous tool he required to carry into 
effect his base and oppressive designs. The suggestion raised 
a storm in England, for Thomas a Becket had not lived a life 
calculated to make him a capable and just religious ruler. 
But the King insisted and the appointment was made. 

In doing this, as was speedily proven, Henry made the 
greatest mistake of his life. The new archbishop had tasted 
every worldly pleasure, and longed for fame in another direc¬ 
tion; besides, it seems likely that he secretly hated the King, 
and was resolved upon revenge. Almost his first act was to 
change the whole course and tenor of his life. He turned 
away all his brilliant and dissolute followers, ate coarse food, 
drank bitter water, lived in a little cell, wore sackcloth next 
his skin, and almost daily flogged himself as a penance for his 
many sins. No event ever transpired in England that sur¬ 
prised the people more than this radical reformation of a man 


200 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


who had been accounted one of the most rollicking gallants in 
all the kingdom. 

If the King was angry at this course, he was enraged when, 
by virtue of his high office, the archbishop forced the former to 
give up various rich estates that the crown had long wrongfully 
withheld from the clergy, among them the castle and city of 
Rochester. From this time forward a deadly war was waged 
between the clergy and the crown; the archbishop and the 
king. Henry had his army, but Thomas a Becket possessed 
the power of excommunication, which he used without stint. 
In the meantime, both parties were appealing to the Pope, the 
archbishop having been forced to quit England and take up 
his residence in Flanders. At last, through the offices of the 
King of France, who was greatly attached to the archbishop, a 
meeting between the two enemies was arranged on French 
soil, which, however, came to nothing. 

After an absence of seven years the archbishop returned to 
England, although warned by his friends not to do so. He 
made his way at once to Canterbury, being well received by 
the common people, who most cordially hated the King. 

Thomas a Becket refused to remove the excommunications 
that he had so freely imposed, and the King was driven 
almost to madness. At length, one day, in the presence of all 
his court, he cried out: “Have I no one here who will deliver 
me from this man?” Among the knights present, four 
decided to obtain Henry’s favor by doing the work his ques¬ 
tion implied. These men were Reginald Fitzurse, William 
Tracy, Hugh de Morville and Richard Brito. Three of them 
had been in the train of Thomas a Becket in the old days of 
his splendor, while chancellor. 

These men, bent on murder and anxious for the reward 
that seemed certain to follow, rode away secretly on horse¬ 
back. On the third day, being December 29, 1170, they 
arrived at Canterbury and presented themselves, attended by 
twelve men at arms, at the house of the archbishop. They 
endeavored to persuade and to force the archbishop to remove 
his excommunications, but were entirely unsuccessful. The 
murderous knights and their heavily armed attendants finally 


ASSASSINATION 


201 


withdrew from the house, but soon returned and began to beat 
down the great gate of the palace, which, in the meantime, 
had been closed and secured. His servants entreated the 
prelate to take refuge in the cathedral, where they were cer¬ 
tain his enemies would not dare to follow him. He refused to 
do this, but, hearing the voices of the monks singing the 
vesper service, said that it was now his duty to go, and 
repaired to the sacred edifice. So secure did his servants con¬ 
sider him, that they did not bar the doors of the church, 
deeming that no man would dare to commit an act of violence 
there. 

But the faithful servants little understood the desperate 
character of these men, who bore the honorable title of 
knights. The ruffians at once forced themselves into the 
cathedral, and presented themselves to the archbishop, who 
stood before the altar of St. Benedict. Here he was put to 
death with sword thrusts, Reginald Fitzurse striking the first 
blow. 

The murderers at once fled, and succeeded in getting out 
of England; the King having, with his customary treachery, 
repudiated them and their dark deed. They reached Rome in 
the guise of penitents, and were sent on a pilgrimage to 
Palestine—rather a light punishment, it would appear, for so 
heavy a crime. As for Henry, he was compelled to make 
heavy concessions to the church to avoid the ban of excom¬ 
munication. Two years after his death, Becket was canonized 
by Pope Alexander III. The body of the murdered arch¬ 
bishop had been hastily buried in a crypt in the cathedral, 
but in 1220 his bones were raised and deposited in a splendid 
shrine, which, for three centuries, was the object of one of the 
greatest pilgrimages of Christendom. The stories told by a 
company of twenty-nine such pilgrims make up the still 
famous Canterbury Tales of Chaucer. 

Among the most distinguished and powerful of all the 
ancient families of the Florentine republic must be reckoned 
the Medici. They came into prominence early in the thir¬ 
teenth century, and did not become extinct until 1743. Cosmo 
de Medici, born in 1389, reached the highest distinction of any 


202 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


of that remarkable family, and upon him was bestowed the 
honorable title of “Father of his Country.” But, while some 
of the De Medicis were truly great, more of them were abso¬ 
lutely debased. They carried on intrigues, political and 
otherwise, almost without number, and, justly or unjustly, are 
reckoned among the greatest poisoners of the world. 

This famous family is mentioned here to introduce to the 
reader Catherine de Medici, at whose instance Admiral 
Coligny was assassinated as the signal for the beginning of the 
fearful massacre of St. Bartholomew’s day, an occurrence 
without parallel in the criminal annals of modern times. Few 
of her sex have exercised the powers that fell to the lot of this 
woman through a long life, and probably none ever used 
authority in a worse manner. She seems to have been almost 
entirely under the control of a horrid impulse to take life, for 
upon no other reasonable hypothesis can her crimes be 
accounted for. Her murders have been ascribed to religious 
fanaticism; but this is clearly a mistake, for she cared abso¬ 
lutely nothing for religion, and systematically violated its 
every precept and practice. She was too depraved and 
monstrous to have been susceptible to the emotion of love, 
and hence jealousy can hardly be charged with her base 
designs. All her affections were centered in herself, and 
cruelty appears to have been the one ruling passion of her life. 

Catherine was the granddaughter of Pietro de Medici, a 
most treacherous and depraved man, possessed of neither 
honor nor prudence. In 1533 she married Henry, the son of 
Francis I. of France, who succeeded that monarch as Henry 
II. in 1547. She appears to have cordially hated the French 
people, and to have desired to trample them under her feet. 
During the latter years of the life of Francis I., his corrupt 
court was dominated by the Duchess de Estampes, while 
Catherine was compelled to share the affection of her husband 
with a famous beauty known as Diana de Poitiers. It is not 
likely that Catherine cared for Henry, but, none the less, she 
hated the woman who largely usurped her place, as also she 
detested the mistress of her royal father-in-law. Such was 
her guile and duplicity, however, that she openly courted the 


ASSASSINATION 


203 


favor of each of these infamous women. Henry died in 1559, 
his death resulting from a wound received in a friendly tourna¬ 
ment, and was succeeded by his son, Francis II. This mon¬ 
arch was crowned when Catherine was about forty years of 
age, and, while not imbecile, was weak, physically, mentally 
and morally. His mother had expected to absolutely control 
the government, but, unfortunately for her base schemes, he 
had married a very remarkable woman, Mary Queen of Scots, 
and was completely under the influence of his young, beautiful 
and highly accomplished wife. As is well known to the 
reader, Mary was an intense Catholic. She at once took sides 
against the Huguenots—the reformers of France. 

Here was Catherine’s opportunity, and she lost no time in 
taking advantage of it. Although she thoroughly detested the 
Protestants, she openly espoused their cause. In this she 
thought she saw a way to return herself to the power she had 
lost through her son’s marriage with the Scotch Queen. It 
seems clear that at this time she was plotting for the imprison¬ 
ment of Francis II., and the death of other members of the 
royal family who stood in the path of her infamous ambition. 
She proposed that the King be retired from the active exercise 
of the functions of his high office, and a Huguenot Council of 
Regency be appointed, of which she was to be the head. To 
this the Huguenots gave a ready assent, but the plot was dis¬ 
covered before it was fully perfected, and several of the lead¬ 
ers suffered death. Having exhausted this expedient without 
beneficial results, Catherine, with all the natural hypocrisy of 
her nature, promptly returned to the Catholic fold. 

And now fortune seemed to favor this designing and 
wicked woman. The young King died in 1560, after a very 
brief reign, and was succeeded by his brother, Charles IX., 
then but ten years of age. As regent, Catherine exercised 
almost unlimited power, which she used to the oppression of 
the Huguenots on all possible occasions. During the years 
that preceded the majority of the young King, his mother had 
succeeded in utterly corrupting him. She had instilled into 
his mind a love of perfidy and cruelty, and had dulled all his 
moral sensibilities as completely as if he had been educated for 


204 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


a Strangler. She pandered to his basest passions and 
instincts, and taught him, above all, to hate and despise the 
Huguenots. In the meantime, a regular warfare had been in 
progress in France between the Catholics and Huguenots, and 
each side had well-nigh exhausted its resources. In 1570 a 
peace was concluded whereby the reformers obtained the 
privilege to freely exercise their religion. 

Catherine de Medici seems, about this time, to have formed 
that dark plot which has since rendered her name infamous, 
and will continue to do so, while time lasts and assassination is 
despised. The better to prepare for it, she expressed great 
sympathy for the Huguenots, and even attempted to lull them 
into a feeling of security by marrying her daughter Margaret 
to the youthful Henry of Bearn, afterward Henry IV., on 
August 18, 1572, a week before the dreadful massacre which 
was already planned, although no day had then been set for 
its occurrence. Bad as the young King was, he manifested 
some reluctance in giving his royal sanction to the wholesale 
murder. It is more than likely that this was due to fear rather 
than any lingering feeling of humanity. His mother finally 
convinced him that the Huguenots were plotting against his 
life, and that their effectual repression was an absolute 
necessity. Henry of Bearn was an associate of Admiral 
Coligny, and one of the leaders of the Huguenots. His mar¬ 
riage was the means of drawing the admiral to Paris, where 
his presence was much desired by the murderous and schem¬ 
ing Catherine. On the 2 2d of August, four days after the 
marriage, Coligny was wounded by a shot fired from a win¬ 
dow. Hearing of this, the King hastened to him, and swore to 
revenge his injury. Upon returning to the palace, his mother 
succeeded in still further poisoning his mind against the gray¬ 
haired old man. “By God’s death!’’ he exclaimed, “let the 
admiral be slain, and not him only, but all the Huguenots, till 
not one remains that can give us trouble!’’ 

The Duke Francis of Guise was ordered to make ready for 
the massacre which Catherine had decided should occur on 
the night of St. Bartholomew’s day, August 24, 1572. His 
first move was to have a close watch kept upon the city, to the 


ASSASSINATION 


205 


end that no Huguenot be permitted to leave, on any pretext 
whatever. The first victim of Catherine’s murderous impulse 
was Admiral Coligny, who was also bitterly hated by the 
Duke of Guise. On the flight when the massacre began, a 
detachment of soldiers, under the personal direction of the 
revengeful Guise, forcibly entered his residence and cut him 
down with their swords. His body was then thrown into the 
street, where, after the duke had trampled it under his feet, 
it was given over to the indignities of a howling, drunken 
mob. In the carnage that ensued, the King himself bore a 
part. Standing before a window in his palace and urged on 
by his mother, he fired repeatedly at those that were fleeing 
past. The scene that ensued simply beggars description; the 
hate of a generation was poured out upon that awful night. 
A French historian has attempted it in the following 
paragraph: 

“Out on the still night boomed the great bell, high up in 
the stone tower of St. Germain l’Auxerrois; and at the signal, 
there poured forth into the streets a horde of fanatic mur¬ 
derers, who executed the will of the demon woman. The 
houses of the Huguenots were broken into, and their scream¬ 
ing inmates dragged forth into the streets and ruthlessly 
butchered. Others were hewn down in their nightclothes, as 
they ran out of their chambers, and their bodies were flung 
from the windows to the pavement below. Women and chil¬ 
dren were chopped to pieces in their beds, and their white 
sheets crimsoned with their gore. The flaming torches in the 
streets lighted up a scene of pandemonium miles on miles in 
extent. All over the city, the pavements were slippery with 
blood, corpses lay in heaps, with gashed necks, dripping 
sanguinary tears—with both sexes and in all ages piled in 
indiscriminate slaughter. The voice of weeping and of wail¬ 
ing, shrieks of anguish and groans of despair, of wrangling 
tiger-like struggling, and shouts of ‘Vive Dieu et le Roi’— 
Live God and the King—all in one horrid babble, rose up to 
the shuddering skies, where the stars looked down in mocking 
serenity. Flying frantically, hither and thither, the defense¬ 
less Huguenots sought in vain for shelter. They were 


2o6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


dragged from their hiding-places with yells of exultation, and 
pierced with gleaming daggers. ” 

The lives of many men of eminence were preserved with 
great difficulty, the Prince of Conde and the King of Navarre 
only escaping death by going to mass and appearing to con¬ 
form in the regulations of the Catholic Church. The frightful 
carnage continued for several days, and the streets of Paris 
almost literally ran with Huguenot blood. The massacre was 
not confined to the metropolis, but quickly spread to nearly 
all the other cities of France, and was carried on in the agri¬ 
cultural districts as well. This was done by the direct com¬ 
mand of the King, moved thereto, no doubt, by his infamous 
mother. In some of the provinces the authorities were 
ashamed to publish the orders that had been transmitted to 
them, but large numbers of fanatics came forward and pro¬ 
ceeded to execute the royal mandate. The exact number of 
people murdered was never known, and has been variously 
stated at from thirty to seventy thousand; fifty thousand being 
probably a conservative estimate. 

Outside of France, the fearful massacre of St. Bartholo¬ 
mew’s day excited feelings of mingled horror and disgust. 
The Queen of England deliberately turned her back upon the 
French ambassador when, next after the perpetration of the 
wholesale murder, he was ushered into her presence. The 
indignation of the Christian nations was not lost upon France, 
and from that time the persecution of the Huguenots began to 
grow unpopular and die away, until, in 1598, Henry IV. 
promulgated the Edict of Nantes, which undertook to secure 
religious liberty to all alike. 

The fears that tormented the youthful King before the 
massacre, and which were played upon by his mother to secure 
his authority to that detestable act, appear to have increased 
after the event. It is said likewise that he was consumed by 
a most fearful and never-ceasing remorse, and that he came to 
absolutely detest and abhor the unnatural mother who had 
corrupted his youthful mind and morals, and whom he held 
responsible for the monstrous crime he had engaged in. Be 
that as it may, and authorities differ on this point, Catherine’s 


ASSASSINATION 


207 


influence began to diminish, and she soon came to have prac¬ 
tically nothing to do with the affairs of the State. Such a 
condition was far from pleasing to the designing woman. 
Charles died May 30, 1574, a moment most favorable for the 
future designs of his mother. It is said that his death was due 
to poison, but this point has long been disputed and cannot be 
said to be well established. The story is that Catherine pro¬ 
cured a book on hunting, a pastime to which the King was 
greatly inclined, and caused the leaves to be touched here and 
there with a glutinous substance which had been impregnated 
with a most deadly poison. This book was thrown in the 
King’s way, and he naturally became interested in its contents. 
To separate and turn the leaves the King would moisten his 
fingers on his tongue and in this way took the poison into his 
system. He is said to have died in great agony and remorse, 
shedding blood at every pore. 

Catherine now thought that the moment of her absolute 
supremacy had arrived. Her sons Francis and Charles were 
both dead, while Henry, her youngest child, had, through her 
intrigues, been placed upon the throne of Poland, and was 
supposed by his mother to be on that account incapacitated 
from becoming King of France. In Henry’s eyes, however, 
the throne of France was vastly preferable to that of Poland— 
besides, he was not wanted in Poland. Accordingly, he aban¬ 
doned his Polish sovereignty, and returned to Paris, where he 
grasped the reins of government, and was crowned Henry 
III. He was by no means as weak, either of body or in mind, 
as his brothers, and his mother was unable to dominate him to 
the same extent. She did, however, succeed in persuading 
him that the Duke of Guise, who had been prominent in the 
massacre of St. Bartholomew, was plotting against his life. 
Believing this, he conspired with his mother for the duke’s 
assassination. The latter was summoned to the palace at an 
early hour one morning, and as he entered the royal apart¬ 
ments, he received a sword thrust through the body from a 
guardsman who had been stationed there for that purpose. 
He fell to the floor and expired, just as the King entered the 
chamber in which the deed had been committed in time to 


208 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


inflict upon the body of the victim the indignity of a kick. 
This was in 1588. 

The long list of evil acts of Catherine de Medici terminated 
only with her death, which occurred shortly after the assassi¬ 
nation of the Duke of Guise, and the thoroughly debauched 
King was thrown upon his own resources, and sadly missed the 
advice of that wily politician, who, for more than half a cen¬ 
tury, had exerted a mighty and most baneful influence upon 
public affairs, much of the time being practical ruler of the 
kingdom. But the last important advice of his mother, the 
assassination of the Duke of Guise, led to most disastrous 
results. The doctors of Sorbonne, a celebrated academic 
body at Paris, which dates from the middle of the thirteenth 
century, and which, down to the French Revolution, held a 
prominent place in all church controversies, declared that the 
people were relieved of the duty of obedience to the King, 
while the Leaguers, who stood for the maintenance of the 
Roman Catholic religion and had been organized by the mur¬ 
dered Duke of Guise, dissolved the parliament. 

Henry was distracted at the difficulties that surrounded 
him, and, learning that Guise’s brother, the Duke of Mayenne, 
had been declared lieutenant-general of the kingdom, threw 
himself under the protection of Henry of Navarre. Politics 
and statecraft make many strange combinations, and the two 
newly reconciled kings were soon advancing upon Paris at the 
head of an army of 40,000 Huguenots. Although Mayenne 
was a brave man and ably defended the city, it is likely that he 
would have been forced to capitulate, had it not been for the 
unexpected death of Henry III. On the 1st of August, 1589, 
a fanatical young Dominican brother, Jacques Clement, 
obtained access to the King under pretext of having something 
of great importance to communicate, and killed him by 
plunging a knife into his body. 

Upon the death of Henry III., Henry of Navarre, being 
the nearest male descendant of the royal house of France, was 
made King of France, as he already was of Navarre. Born of 
a Calvinistic mother, Henry was a zealous Protestant, 
although he had, to save his life, been compelled to conform 


ASSASSINATION 


2G() 

to the Catholic faith. It was this Henry who won the splendid 
victory over Mayenne at Ivry in 1590, which Lord Macaulay 
has immortalized in verse. He had escaped from the court of 
Paris, where he was a virtual prisoner, in 1576, and had 
promptly revoked his compulsory conversion and again 
taken command of the Protestant army. To render himself 
secure in his succession to the throne of France, in July, 1593, 
he again changed his religion and recanted Protestantism with 
great pomp at St. Denis’ in Paris. Early in 1610, the King 
decided to levy war upon Germany, and leave his second wife, 
Marie de Medici, daughter of the Duke of Tuscany, regent of 
France during his absence Marie was crowned with great 
pomp, and the following day, May 14, 1610, the King was 
assassinated. Owing to the changes in his religion and the 
violent enemies he had made, Henry had long been a mark 
for assassins, no less than nineteen attempts having been made 
upon his life. 

On the day of his death, Henry attended mass at a church 
in the Rue St. Honore. At this time an assassin, one 
Francois Ravaillac, was seeking his life, but deferred the 
execution of his design owing to the presence of the Duke of 
Vendome. About four o’clock in the afternoon, accompanied 
by the Marquis de la Force, Mirabeau, and Mesdames de 
Ravarden, Roquelaure and de Liancourt, the King entered his 
carriage. Ravaillac followed the royal carriage with the inten¬ 
tion of stabbing Henry as the latter passed through the gates 
into the palace yard. The King, however, altered his route, 
and directed his driver to stop in a narrow street then known 
as the Rue de la Ferroniere, to await the passage of two carts 
which blocked the way. This was the assassin’s opportunity. 
Mounting on the rear wheel of the coach and reaching over 
the shoulder of the Duke of Epernon, he stabbed the unfor¬ 
tunate King with a long-bladed knife. The monarch cried 
out, “I am wounded!” The murderer had not been seen by 
the inmates of the carriage, and might have escaped had he 
thrown down the knife. Upon reaching the ground, however, 
he stood erect and as motionless as a statue with the bloody 
knife still in his hand. A gentleman standing by was about 


2io MURDER IN ALL AGES 

to run Ravaillac through the body with his sword, but was 
prevented by the Duke of Epernon, who cried out, “Save him, 
on your life!” The King was carried back to the Louvre, 
where he shortly afterward died. The punishment meted out 
to his murderer was barbarous in the extreme. Having been 
fastened firmly to a wooden cross, his right hand was burned 
off in a slow fire. The fleshy parts of his body were torn with 
red-hot pincers and into the gaping wounds were poured 
melted lead, hot oil, pitch and rosin. 


CHAPTER XIII 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 

William, Prince of Orange, and Count of Nassau, commonly- 
known as William of Orange, was the real founder of the 
independence of the Netherlands. He was born in 1533, and 
was one of the most illustrious men of his age. Well beloved 
by millions of people, he was quite as cordially hated by an 
equally great number. He was the idol of the Dutch, and an 
implacable foe of the Spanish Inquisition. When a boy of 
fifteen, he became the page of the Emperor Charles V., who 
took great interest in him, attended to his education, and 
rapidly advanced his youthful proteg6. In 1555, when Wil¬ 
liam was but twenty-two years of age, the Emperor promoted 
him over the heads of many veteran officers and placed him 
in command of the Imperial army on the French frontier. 
Upon his abdication, Charles strongly recommended William 
to his son, and successor, Philip, who employed him to draw 
the treaty of Cateau-Cambresis, and selected him as one of the 
four hostages to be given to France for its fulfilment. During 
his residence in Paris, William was confidentially informed by 
Henry II. of a secret arrangement between France and Spain, 
looking to the complete extermination of all heretics in both 
countries. Although a very young man, William was lacking 
neither in courage nor prudence, and, although greatly 
shocked at such a proposition, he was able to maintain his 
composure, and at the same time he solemnly resolved in his 
own mind to oppose, with every means in his power, the 
execution in the Netherlands of the infamous scheme. 
Returning to the Netherlands, the prince became the leader of 
the party pledged to maintain the chartered liberties of the 
country. 


2 12 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


In the long wars which ensued, William developed such 
masterly skill, and possessed such unbounded control over his 
people, that the Spaniards offered an enormous reward, 
amounting to a million dollars, to any one who would assas¬ 
sinate him. This offer, which was made by Philip, whom he 
had at one time served, was accompanied by a guarantee of a 
full and free pardon, together with a patent of Spanish 
nobility. This proposal was made on the 18th of March, 1580, 
and was a virtual death warrant for the high-minded, humane 
and patriotic prince. The first attempt upon the life of the 
Prince of Orange was made on Sunday, March 18, 1582. 
After leaving the table, where he had entertained a number of 
noblemen at dinner, he started at the head of his guests to 
conduct them to a different part of the palace. Pausing on 
the threshold to call the attention of the company to a fine 
piece of tapestry, he was approached by a young man of 
slender build and agreeable appearance, who presented a 
petition. While William was making ready to examine the 
document, the pretended petitioner produced a pistol, which 
he placed near the head of the prince and fired. The bullet 
entered the neck under the right ear and came out under the 
left jaw. So near was the weapon that the greater portion of 
the prince’s beard was burned off. The magnanimity of 
William is well illustrated by his first word after he realized 
that an attempt had been made upon his life. “Do not kill 
him!” he cried, “I forgive him my death!” 

But the thoughtful and merciful direction came too late. 
The words had not left his mouth when the miserable assassin 
fell, his body pierced in thirty-two places by the weapons of 
the attendants, who were supposed to guard the prince against 
like attacks, which had long been expected. Besides, he was 
run through by the swords of two of the accompanying noble¬ 
men. The name of the would-be assassin was Juan Juareguy, 
an employd of a Spanish merchant, domiciled at Antwerp. 
There was little doubt but what the young man undertook the 
desperate and wicked deed for the one purpose of obtaining 
the promised reward. 

For a long time William lay in a most critical condition, his 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


213 


physicians being unable to determine whether he would 
recover or succumb to the effects of his wound. So great 
was the devotion of his people, who universally loved him, 
that business was largely suspended, the one anxiety 
being to obtain the latest news from the bed-chamber of 
the wounded prince. By May 2d, he had so far recovered as 
to be able to attend a public thanksgiving for his fortunate 
escape, in the great cathedral. Not only was the church 
crowded to suffocation, but the streets were thronged, while 
the shouts of the populace attested the extreme joy of the 
nation. 

Two months later two desperate scoundrels, Salseda, a 
Spaniard, and Basa, an Italian, attempted to earn the magnifi¬ 
cent reward offered by Philip. Their plan was to dispatch 
the prince by the administration of poison. Their plot was 
fortunately discovered, and they were thrown into prison, 
where Basa succeeded in committing suicide. Salseda was 
executed in a manner that suggested the cruelties of the 
Inquisition, which the Dutch so violently denounced; his body 
being torn to pieces by four horses. 

The third attempt upon the life of the Prince of Orange 
was mady by one Pietro Dorgogne, who came to Holland 
from Spain in March, 1583, for that purpose, but who failed to 
accomplish his design. In 1584, Hans Hanzoon, a resident of 
Flushing, tried to win the reward and title of nobility by 
placing a charge of gunpowder beneath William’s seat in 
church, but the explosion failed to occur. The Duke of 
Parma, one of William’s most deadly enemies, released a 
French officer named LeGoth from prison, for the express 
purpose of poisoning the prince. Instead of doing this, he 
exposed the plot, and became one of his most faithful and 
devoted followers. 

But the Prince of Orange did not bear a charmed life, and 
he was unable to escape the cupidity that the promised reward 
aroused in thousands of murderous hearts. The sixth attempt 
proved successful. It was made at noon on Tuesday, July 10, 
1584. With his wife upon his arm, William was on his way to 
the dining-room, when a man named Balthhazar Gerard 


2 14 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


approached and requested a passport. The prince appeared 
to think nothing of the very usual occurrence, and paid no 
regard to the whispered admonition of his wife, “I have 
never seen so villainous a countenance,” but directed his secre¬ 
tary to give Gerard the document he had requested. This 
done, he passed on into the dining-room, where he engaged 
in cheerful conversation with a number of friends who sat at 
the table with him. This apartment was on the first floor of 
the palace, and connected with an ante-room from which a 
flight of stairs led to the prince’s rooms above. In this ante¬ 
room, in the shadow of an archway, Gerard had succeeded in 
ensconcing himself, and here he awaited the appearance of his 
victim. The foot of the prince had only reached the first 
stair, when the report of a pistol rang out, and William of 
Orange fell backward into the arms of Jacob Van Waldere. 
Death was almost instantaneous, yet, before he expired, he 
exclaimed: “My God, have pity on my soul! My God, have 
pity on this poor people!” The assassin made an effort to 
escape, but was intercepted, overpowered and thrown into 
prison. Four days later the wretch who had taken the life of 
one of the best and truest of men paid a fearful penalty for 
his awful crime. The spectacle would have wrung the heart 
of the brave, yet gentle William of Orange. He had 
previously been subjected to the torture of having some of 
his joints dislocated by the rack, and his body seamed and 
scarred by flames. Nevertheless, although suffering intense 
pain, he ascended the scaffold calmly and unhesitatingly. His 
right hand was burned off by a red-hot iron, yet, although 
suffering the most excruciating agony, not a groan escaped his 
lips. Red-hot pincers then tore the flesh from his body in six 
different places. His abdomen was next cut open, and the 
bowels torn out. His legs and arms were then chopped off 
close to the trunk of his body. He yet lived. He ceased to 
breathe only when his heart had been cut out and thrown in 
his face. Finally the head was severed from the body, and the 
sentence had been executed. 

The soil of France seems to have been fruitful in bringing 
forth assassins, particularly those whose murderous impulse 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


2I 5 


took the form of avenging certain real, or imaginary, political 
offenses. 

A desperate attempt was made in December, 1800, to com¬ 
pass the death of Napoleon Bonaparte, while he was yet First 
Consul. It had been publicly announced that, on a certain 
evening, Napoleon would attend the opera, and this occasion 
was seized upon as a favorable time for the consummation of 
a plot, formed by three men, to assassinate him. Their 
attempt, while it antedated the use of bombs for like purposes, 
was in the same devilish line. They procured a barrel, which 
they filled with gunpowder and grape-shot. This they placed 
upon a cart, which, with many others, was drawn up at the side 
of one of the streets along which the state carriage would 
necessarily pass. One of the conspirators, St. Regent by 
name, was left in charge of the cart and its unique engine of 
destruction, while his companions repaired to the neighbor¬ 
hood of the Tulleries, where Bonaparte had recently taken up 
his residence, that they might be able. to notify him of the 
starting of Napoleon’s carriage. It appears that the life of 
the “man of destiny” was saved through the convivial habits 
of his coachman. He had been drinking, it was afterward 
shown, and drove with such unusual rapidity that the two 
spies were unable to keep in advance of the carriage. St. 
Regent did not perceive the carriage until it was almost upon 
him. As quickly as possible he lighted the fuse and prepared 
to save himself by running, but his progress was obstructed by 
the passing of a detachment of cavalry, and the explosion 
occurred while he was yet near the spot. The results were 
absolutely appalling, and fairly surpassed the carnage pro¬ 
duced by our modern dynamite bombs. The fronts of some 
forty houses were completely wrecked, twenty persons were 
killed and fifty-two wounded, among the latter being St. 
Regent himself. Bonaparte escaped entirely uninjured. 

Louis Philippe, King of France, was five times assaulted 
with murderous intent, but each time had the good fortune to 
escape. One of these assaults was undertaken by Damiens, 
known in history as the “Regicide,” and is one of the most 
famous of all similar attempts ever made in Paris. The mur- 


2 l6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


derous assault was made on a cold winter’s evening in 1840, 
when the King appeared wrapped in two fur-lined overcoats. 
As he was in the act of stepping into his coach, Damiens 
slipped through the surrounding guards and stabbed Louis 
Philippe. The heavy coats worn by the monarch alone saved 
him from instant death. Damiens was at once overpowered 
and identified by the King, who said: “He is the man; arrest 
him, but do him no harm. ’ ’ The would-be assassin was put 
to death in a most cruel manner. 

Of all the attempts to take the life of Louis Philippe, the 
most extraordinary and ingenious was that made by Fieschi, 
who devised and constructed an infernal machine, which in 
some respects resembled the present Gatling gun. He rented 
a room in a street through which the King was accustomed to 
pass, either in his carriage or on horseback, and there pro¬ 
ceeded to construct his engine of destruction. Behind the 
blind of one of the windows he arranged twenty-five gun- 
barrels, diverging from a common centre like the ribs of a 
fan, and so leveled as to command the entire width of the 
street for some distance. He loaded each of the barrels with 
a heavy charge of gunpowder and four bullets. A train of 
powder was connected with the infernal machine in such a 
manner that they could all be simultaneously discharged. 
Fieschi selected the anniversary of the King’s coronation as the 
occasion for “removing” him, as a grand procession was to 
pass along the Boulevard du Temple, where the assassin had 
erected his deadly battery of guns. When Fieschi judged that 
the auspicious moment had arrived, he opened the blind and 
applied the match. The result was a veritable massacre, no 
less than forty persons falling, dead and wounded, to the pave¬ 
ment. The horse ridden by the King was shot through the 
neck, but Louis Philippe escaped uninjured, except that a 
bullet slightly grazed his cheek. In addition to the cases 
detailed, the life of this monarch was attempted by Aliband in 
1836, and by Le Compte and Henri in 1846. 

An assassination that has passed as a most remarkable 
occurrence into French history, and that of the world, for that 
matter, was the killing of Marat by Marie Anne Charlotte 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


217 


Corday D’Armans, known to the world as Charlotte Corday. 
Marat was one of the foremost men of the French Revolu¬ 
tion, dividing the rather doubtful honor with Danton and 
Robespierre. Charlotte was born at St. Satuminin 1768. She 
came of an old and quite aristocratic family, but seems to have 
early imbibed republican and revolutionary principles. Not¬ 
withstanding this, she became horrified at the acts of the 
Jacobins. Her hatred of this murderous party was intensified 
by acquaintance with a number of proscribed Girondists, who 
fled to Normandy for safety. Bitter in her hatred, yet lofty 
in her ideas of the rights of man, she resolved to rid the 
country of at least one of the oppressors who were putting the 
people to death by wholesale. Accordingly, she made ready 
for her journey to Paris. Charlotte was poor, and is said to 
have traveled the entire distance, nearly two hundred miles, 
on foot. She seems not to have definitely determined whether 
to take the life of Robespierre or Marat, but an act of extreme 
cruelty on the part of the latter, the demanding by him of one 
hundred or two hundred thousand more victims for the guillo¬ 
tine, decided her in his favor. With the little money she still 
possessed, she purchased a knife and called upon the “Father 
of the people, ’ ’ as Marat was then known by his adherents. 
Twice she was unsuccessful, but the third time found Marat at 
home. 

The man who had consigned scores, yes, hundreds, of the 
people to an infamous death, was in a sitting bath, engaged 
in writing on a board. This was upon July 13, 1793. She 
gained admission upon the statement that she had important 
news from Caen to communicate. If she lacked anything of 
courage and determination to accomplish her design, she was 
reinforced by a remark of Marat’s to the effect that the 
Girondists, some of whom were Charlotte’s friends, who had 
fled to Normandy, were shortly to be guillotined. Drawing 
her knife, she plunged it into the heart of the monster who 
had given himself up to a passion for human blood, and he 
expired with a single groan. 

Charlotte was promptly arrested and brought before the 
Revolutionary Tribunal, where she justified her act and 


2l8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


gloried in its consummation. As a matter of course, she was 
promptly condemned to the guillotine, the sentence being 
carried into effect on July 17, 1793. Sanson, the public 
executioner of Paris, in his memoirs declares that she met 
her death with the most perfect complacency. After her 
head fell into the basket, one of the attendants—a most brutal 
and inhuman wretch—lifted it up by the hair and struck the 
beautiful face. Sanson asserts that the face flushed with 
indignation. 

A romantic incident attended the death of Charlotte 
Corday. A young Parisian enthusiast, named Adam Lux, 
hearing, in common with all Paris, of the assassination, 
attended her trial, and fell violently in love with her. He 
was present also at her execution, and determined to join her 
in the next world. Accordingly, he hastened to make certain 
declarations that, as he well knew, would lead to his imme¬ 
diate arrest, condemnation and execution. He expressed him¬ 
self as glad to yield up his life, and died expecting to be 
speedily united to the object of his affection. Modern novel¬ 
ists and dramatists have represented Adam Lux as being the 
accepted suitor of Charlotte Corday, but there is no evidence 
that the two ever exchanged a single word. 

During the days of the last French Empire, upon January 
14, 1858, a carefully-planned attempt was made upon the life 
of the Emperor, Louis Napoleon. The principal conspirators 
were Italians known as Orsini, Pierre, Gomez and Rudio. To 
accomplish their design, which meant the destruction of the 
empire, they had pear-shaped hand-grenades specially manu¬ 
factured, upon some pretext or another, in Birmingham, Eng¬ 
land. These were filled with a powerful explosive, on the 
larger end forty-five nipples being arranged, suitable to carry 
an ordinary percussion cap. The announcement having been 
made that the Emperor, accompanied by the royal suite, was 
to pass along a certain avenue on their way to the grand 
opera, Orsini and his accomplices took their stand at a con¬ 
venient and commanding point. When the carriage contain¬ 
ing the royal couple arrived, the assassins promptly threw 
their deadly bombs. The carriage was shattered into frag- 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


219 


ments, and one of the horses killed, but Napoleon and 
Eugenie escaped entirely uninjured. Two footmen were 
killed outright, however, and a large number of people 
wounded. 

One of the latest assassinations of note in France occurred 
at Lyons, on the evening of June 24, 1894, Marie Francois 
Sadi-Carnot, President of France, being stabbed to death by a 
young Italian anarchist named Caserio Geronemo. President 
Carnot was at Lyons in connection with the International 
Exposition, being held there. Shortly after nine o’clock in 
the evening, as he was being driven to the theatre, Caserio, as 
he was called, leaped upon the step of the carriage and stabbed 
President Carnot with a poniard so severely that he died 
shortly after twelve o’clock that night. Caserio was rescued 
from the fury of the populace with considerable difficulty, and 
lodged in prison. 

President Carnot was born in 1837, and had filled several 
important public places before his election to the presidency, 
December 3, 1887. He was a man of marked ability and high 
integrity. His death was most sincerely mourned by the 
French people. 

Caserio was arraigned for trial at Lyons, August 2, 1894. 
He assumed an air of bravado, and acknowledged himself the 
assassin of M. Carnot. He was a fanatical anarchist, and 
killed the French President to avenge the execution of three 
noted anarchists, Ravochal, Valiant and Henri. He claimed 
to have had no accomplices, yet one Granier, an associate of 
his, committed suicide by disemboweling himself, June 28, 
1894, rather than submit to arrest. 

Caserio was guillotined very early in the morning of August 
16, 1894. When brought face to face with death, all his 
bravado left him, and his cowardly nature showed itself in its 
true colors. It was found necessary to carry him to the 
guillotine. 

On October 25, 1878, an attempt was made to assassinate 
King Alfonso of Spain, who had just returned to Madrid after 
a month’s absence upon a tour of inspection through the 
northern provinces of his kingdom. On that day he had 


220 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


reviewed, in the presence of Ex-President Grant and several 
distinguished French and German officers, that portion of the 
standing army which was stationed at the capital. As the 
young King passed through the streets from the field of 
review, he was welcomed by the plaudits and acclamations of 
the vast crowd which thronged the streets. Ladies waved 
their handkerchiefs and fans, while flowers were showered 
upon him from the balconies. Suddenly a young man pushed 
his way to the front, and fired a pistol point-blank at Alfonso. 
The bullet missed the mark, and the would-be murderer was 
instantly seized. His name was Juan Oliva Moncari; he 
was a cooper, twenty-five years of age. In his own native 
district of Tarragona, Moncari was known as a rabid revolu¬ 
tionist. He was as cool as he was daring, and stated that he 
did not feel a single pang of remorse, that he had meditated 
the crime for a long period, and had come to Madrid expressly 
to carry it into execution. 

The ancient inhabitants of Britain were a quarrelsome and 
revengeful people, and assassination was often the end of the 
kings and chiefs who divided the territory and fought each 
other to the death, to maintain what they had often ruthlessly 
seized. The hatred of oppression and the love of liberty, 
inherent in the Anglo-Saxon race, wherever it exists, reached 
a crisis in the days of King John, surnamed Lackland, who 
was born in 1160, and although the youngest of the five sons 
of Henry II.—the monster who procured the assassination of 
Thomas a Becket—ascended the throne of England in 1199. 
By his oppressive acts John arrayed against himself the free 
barons of England, who defeated him in battle, and at Runny- 
mede, on the 15th of June, 1215, forced him to sign Magna 
Charta—the Great Charter—upon which the liberties, not only 
of Great Britain, but of the United States as well, are 
primarily based. We who enjoy constitutional liberty owe a 
debt to those ancient warriors who secured the first genuine 
concession from the hereditary kings of England. The con¬ 
cluding lines of an inscription written by Mark Aikenside for 
a column at Runnymede—which has never been erected—may 
well be quoted: 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


221 


“ This is the place where England’s ancient barons, 

Clad in arms and stern with conquest. 

From their tyrant king, then rendered tame, 

Did challenge and procure the charter of thy freedom. 

Pass not on till thou has blessed their memory 
And paid those duties God appointed the reward 
Of public virtue. And if chance thy house 
Salute thee with a father’s honored name, 

Go, call thy sons, instruct them what a debt 

They owe their ancestors, and make them swear 

To pay it, by transmitting down entire 

Those sacred rights to which they themselves were born. 

From the days of John, greater liberty was enjoyed in 
England, and assassinations of royal personages decreased in 
number. John, himself, was a murderer and an employer of 
assassins. One of the most detestable of all his infamous acts 
was the assassination of Maud Witzwalter, known as “Maud 
the Fair. ’ ’ She was said to be the most beautiful woman in 
all England, and arrested the attention of King John. But 
Maud proved decidedly different from most of the ladies of the 
depraved court; she repulsed the advances of the king, and 
incurred the royal displeasure. By order of John, she was 
confined in the highest, coldest and least comfortable of all the 
cheerless chambers of the Tower of London, where so many 
unfortunates have spent their last hours. 

If the sensual monarch imagined that such severe proceed- 
ings would conquer the virtue enthroned in the heart of the 
fair captive, he was doomed to disappointment. Satisfied on 
this point, John decided that she should pay for her refusal 
with her life. For a long time she was left without sustenance 
of any kind, and then given poisoned food upon which to break 
her fast. She speedily died, and added one more victim to the 
long list of women murdered by this infamous wretch. 

One of the most cruel of all the acts of this man, who 
stopped at no crime to pander to his passions or further his 
ambitious designs, was the assassination of Prince Arthur. 
Arthur was the son of Geoffrey, John’s elder brother, and was 
lineally the rightful heir to the throne. At that time, how¬ 
ever, the law of primogeniture was not as well established as 


222 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


at present; but Arthur had many powerful supporters, among 
them Philip,King of France. At the time when John ascended 
the throne, Arthur, who was a posthumous child, was but 
twelve years of age, and a handsome, engaging youth. While 
yet a boy, Arthur, supported by King Philip, took the field to 
obtain his rights. Through a mean stratagem of John, he was 
taken prisoner and thrown into the castle of Falaise, in Nor¬ 
mandy. Thither John sent a hired assassin to kill the young 
prince and another to burn out his handsome eyes. But 
Herbert de Bourg, the warden of the castle, moved by the 
entreaties of the youthful prisoner, prevented the consumma¬ 
tion of the infamous plans. 

Arthur was soon removed from the custody of the tender¬ 
hearted Herbert, whom Shakespeare has immortalized, and 
lodged in another prison. Here the boy was murdered, 
exactly how is not entirely clear, although it is said by some 
historians that he was put to death by John himself, who 
drowned him in the river. The King paid dearly for his 
baseness, Philip of France seizing the greater portion of his 
continental possessions. 

Several attempts upon the lives of royal personages in 
England have been made within comparatively recent years. 
On the evening of May 15, 1800, the life of George III. was 
placed in jeopardy by the act of a would-be regicide. Drury 
Lane Theatre, then the leading place of amusement in Lon¬ 
don, was the scene of the attempt. The announcement had 
been made that the King would be present that night, and the 
theatre was literally packed. Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the 
distinguished dramatist and orator, whose plays still hold 
audiences, and some .of whose orations are, even now, regarded 
as models, was manager of the theatre and had made extra¬ 
ordinary preparations to receive and entertain the royal 
visitor. The King had hardly finished bowing in recognition 
of the storm of applause excited by his appearance in the box, 
when a pistol-shot rang out and a puff of smoke was seen to 
curl upward from the pit. The markmanship of the miscreant 
was very defective, and George escaped entirely uninjured. 
The would-be assassin was quickly seized, and, amid the wild- 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


223 


est tumult, removed to the music room, under the stage. 
Here he was confronted by the Duke of York. Being interro¬ 
gated as to his name and motives, the man said, turning to the 
duke: “My name is James Hatfield; God bless your Royal 
Highness; I like you very well; you are a good fellow.” Soon 
afterward he added: “I bear no malice toward the King; I 
was tired of living; my plan was to get rid of it by some 
means or other; I did not intend anything against the king’s 
life; I knew that an attempt would answer the purpose.” 

The scene in the theatre after the attempt at assassination 
was dramatic in the extreme. Even before the excitement 
had subsided, Mrs. Jordan, the most noted actress of her day, 
swept grandly down before the footlights, and, omitting the 
overture, instantly began to sing the national anthem. To 
this song, so dear to the heart of every loyal Briton, Sheridan 
had, upon the spur of the moment, added the following stanza: 

“ From every latent foe, 

From the assassin’s blow 
God shield the King. 

O’er him Thine arm extend, 

For Britain’s sake defend 
Our Father, Prince and Friend, 

God save the King.” 

Hatfield was brought to trial and was defended by Lord 
Erskine, one of the most famous advocates of England. The 
defense was insanity, and so strong a case was made that the 
jury, without leaving their box, returned a verdict of not 
guilty. The man was committed to an insane asylum, where 
he ended his days. 

The first of several attempts upon the life of the present 
sovereign of Great Britain was made June io, 1840. The 
assault was made by one Edward Oxford, a youth of nineteen, 
who fired two shots at Queen Victoria, as, accompanied by the 
Prince Consort, she was driving up Constitution Hill. 
Neither of the shots took effect. When a mere lad, Oxford, 
who was born at Birmingham, had come to London and found 
employment as pot-boy in a public house. He was subse¬ 
quently promoted to the position of bar-man, and in this 


224 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


capacity had served in several inns and tap-rooms in the 
metropolis. In April, 1840, he took lodgings in Lambeth, and 
began to frequent shooting-galleries in Leicester Square and 
on the Strand. He was arrested immediately after the firing, 
but manifested no unwillingness to accompany the officers, 
exclaiming, “It was I; I did it; I will give myself up; there 
is no occasion to use violence; I will go with you.” Upon his 
examination before the Privy Council, he showed little con¬ 
cern. He seemed to have an insane craze for notoriety, and 
his complacency during the progress of his trial was extraor¬ 
dinary. When the indictment was read in court, he burst 
into loud and discordant peals of laughter. The evidence 
adduced in his trial developed the fact that his father had been 
repeatedly confined in institutions for the insane. He was 
acquitted upon the plea of insanity, and committed to an 
insane asylum for life. 

Two years later, on May 30, 1842, the life of the Queen was 
again placed in jeopardy. This time the assault was made by 
a man named John Francis. He adopted the weapon 
employed by Oxford, and fired at Victoria from nearly the 
same place where the young bar-man had sought to gain 
notoriety. His motive appears to have been the same as that 
of his predecessor. He made no defense, and was convicted 
and sentenced to death, but was magnanimously pardoned by 
his intended victim. This act of royal clemency appears to 
have been ill-advised, for within five weeks she was again fired 
upon. This time her assailant was a mere boy, only sixteen 
years of age. He was a hunchback, named William Bean, of 
rather revolting appearance. One of the press reports of that 
day describes him as a “long, sickly, pale-faced youth, with 
light hair.” Over one eye he wore a black patch, while his 
nose was disfigured by a repulsive scar. He was instantly 
seized by a lad about his own age named Dasset, who handed 
him over to the police. It transpired that i,he pistol he had 
employed was loaded with’ powder and pieces of a clay pipe. 
It might have been supposed that the Government would, by 
this time, have seen the importance of imposing a severe sen¬ 
tence, with a view of checking the epidemic of youthful 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


225 


assassins; but such was not the case. Young Bean was merely 
charged with a misdemeanor, and escaped with eighteen 
months imprisonment at hard labor. 

Once more the Queen of England was a target for an 
assassin. On the evening of May 19, 1849, accompanied by 
three of her children, she was driving in an open carriage 
along one of the principal streets of London, when one Wil¬ 
liam Hamilton, an Irish bricklayer, discharged a pistol at 
her. On the 14th day of the following month he was 
arraigned for trial. Hamilton entered a plea of guilty, and 
was sentenced to seven years penal servitude. 

In this connection it seems to be worth while to mention an 
attempt to take the life of Sir Robert Peel. This was made on 
January 20, 1848, by a man named Daniel McNaughton, who 
had conceived an almost insane dislike to the Prime Minister. 
On the day named, McNaughton took up a position in Down¬ 
ing Street, awaiting the approach of Sir Robert to the Govern¬ 
ment House on that thoroughfare. A Mr. Drummond, who 
resided in Downing Street, happened to be returning to his 
residence. The assassin mistook him for his intended victim, 
and, approaching from behind, shot him in the back. Mr. 
Drummond survived for only five days. The defense of the 
murderer was undertaken by Mr. Alexander, afterward Lord 
Cockburn, who later became the Chief Justice of England, and 
well known to the American people, by reason of his connec¬ 
tion with the prosecution by the United States of the Alabama 
Claims. The eminent advocate secured an acquittal of his 
client, and his success upon this occasion was always regarded 
by him as one of the most brilliant of his long career at the 
bar. The plea he offered in McNaughton’s behalf was 
temporary insanity, and so ably did he urge it that the judges 
presiding at the trial directed the jury to bring in a verdict of 
“not guilty,” and the man was allowed to go free, to commit a 
similar offense in the future should his homicidal impulses 
impel him thereto. 

Several of the rulers of modern Russia have died violent 
deaths. This is in part chargeable to the passionate nature of 
the people of that country, but principally to the arbitrary 


226 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


government of the Czars, who have long ruled in a cruel and 
oppressive manner, exercising almost absolute power. The 
Emperor Paul fell at the hands of assassins. Efforts have 
been made to show that his death was not deliberately planned, 
but there is little doubt but what such was the case. He was 
the son of the unfortunate Peter III., who was assassinated in 
1762 by Alexis Orloff, acting in connection with his brother 
Gregori, for which murderous act they both received high 
honors and great pecuniary rewards. His mother was the 
brilliant but infamous Catherine II. 

The son of such a woman as Catherine could not well be 
other than cruel and revengeful. She had kept him in con¬ 
stant restraint, and when, upon her death in 1796, he ascended 
the throne, he was very poorly equipped for the high duties 
that awaited him. Mr. Carr, in his very entertaining and 
instructive work, “A Northern Tour,” has given the following 
graphic account of the assassination of Paul, which occurred 
on the night of March 24, 1801. 

‘‘The Emperor had been worried by some apprehension of 
mischief, and took a more than usually affectionate farewell of 
his wife and children in the fatal night. He lay down as 
usual, in his regimentals and boots, and his guards took up 
their posts before his chamber door. Silence, at length, 
reigned throughout the palace, except when it was disturbed 
by the pacing of the sentinels, or the murmurs of the Neva. 
In the dead of the night nine conspirators passed the draw¬ 
bridge and made their way stealthily up the staircase to the 
emperor’s chamber, where, by this time, the guards had been 
changed by the contrivance of the assassins, all but one faith¬ 
ful hussar, who had the distinction of always sleeping at the 
bedroom door of his Imperial Master, in an ante-room. This 
man it had been found impossible to corrupt, and when the 
conspirators entered the ante-chamber, he challenged them, 
and was immediately cut down. As the whole party rushed 
in, the emperor sprang from his couch. At first, the helpless 
monarch endeavored to find shelter behind the tables and 
chairs. Then, for a moment, recovering his self-possession, 
he assumed a tone of authority. He declared they were his 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


227 


prisoners, and called upon them to surrender. When the 
merciless ring closed around him, however, the wretched man 
began to beg so piteously for his life that one of the conspir¬ 
ators relented, and for a moment seemed half inclined to side 
with the victim. Paul offered to relinquish the sceptre, prom¬ 
ising tp make them all princes and give them estates. He 
realized that all this was vain, and plunged madly for the 
window, which he attempted to break through, fearfully gash¬ 
ing his hands in the struggle. Dragged back from the win¬ 
dow, he seized a chair and fought desperately with it. ‘We 
have passed the Rubicon,’ said one of the conspirators; ‘if we 
spare his life, before the setting of to-morrow’s sun we shall 
be his victims.’ Thus rallied, the murderers passed a sash 
around the neck of the struggling Emperor, and in another 
minute or two all was over, and the conspirators dispersed 
quickly to their homes. ’ ’ 

The Emperor Alexander II., sometimes called the “Eman¬ 
cipator, ’ ’ by reason of his having freed the serfs of Russia, 
escaped from so many murderous assaults that the people 
began to think he bore a charmed life and was proof against 
the plots of the Nihilists, and, indeed, there was much in his 
remarkable career to justify this belief on the part of credulous 
and superstitious people. 

At the gate of the Summer Garden in St. Petersburg there 
is an image of the Virgin, upon the base of which is engraved 
the inscription, “Touch not mine anointed.’’ Upon the 
ground where it stands the first attempt was made upon the 
life of Alexander II., on April 16, 1866. The assassins failed 
in the accomplishment of their purpose, but another attempt 
was made upon the 6th day of June in the following year, 
while the czar was driving with Napoleon III. in Paris. 
There is little doubt that the attack last mentioned was made 
by men who had at one time owed natural allegiance to his 
throne, but who had expatriated themselves either because 
of hatred for the ruling monarch, or on account of having 
committed some crime. On December 4, 1879, Alexander 
passed safely over a railroad whose track had been under¬ 
mined, and beneath which had been placed explosives intended 


228 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


to destroy him. Two years later, the dining-room of the 
Winter Palace, in which he was expected to have taken his 
evening meal, was blown up and nine soldiers were killed. 

These remarkable escapes seem to have convinced the 
Nihilists that they must resort to strategy, rather than open 
violence, to accomplish their purpose, the “removal” of a man 
whom they doubtless honestly believed to be a foe to Russian 
liberty and Russian advancement. It being known that the 
Emperor was a sufferer from asthma, some member of the 
organization, doubtless acting under instructions from a higher 
authority in the order, sent him a box of pills, presumably as 
a remedy for this complaint. The box was opened and care¬ 
fully investigated, and was found to be filled with an explosive 
substance in a quantity sufficient to have- caused the death of 
at least a dozen persons. Soon afterward, he received a peti¬ 
tion, which, upon examination, was found to have been 
sprinkled with a poisonous powder. 

Although the Czar was undoubtedly a brave man, these 
occurrences could not but have most seriously affected him. 
Threatened with death at every turn, and doubtful of the good 
faith of his very servants and intimate associates—for Nihilism 
had permeated the highest ranks of the nobility—it is not to be 
wondered that Alexander became excessively nervous. 
Under this terrible mental strain the strong constitution of 
the emperor began to weaken, his face became haggard, and 
his disposition irritable and morose. At length, however, his 
native manliness asserted itself, and, like one afflicted with an 
incurable disease, who looks his impending fate fairly in the 
face, Alexander resolved to be master of his own actions, to 
enjoy what remained to him of life, and, like Socrates, “accept 
with complacency the inevitable.” He positively refused to 
adopt any of the precautions which the police of St. Peters¬ 
burg were inclined to throw around his royal person. “I am 
a man,” he said; “I will go and come as I please; I will eat 
and drink what I like, and do as I choose. If I am, to be 
murdered in the end, that is the destiny which God himself 
has reserved for me. I have already lived longer than any of 
my race; as to death, I do not personally fear it.” 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


229 


It was thought necessary, however, to guard the person of 
the Czar with the presence of one of his most devoted friends, 
and for this delicate office the Count Louis Melikoff was 
selected. No further effort was put forth by his family to 
control his actions, except so far as might be conducted by 
ordinary principles of prudence, and the czar was left to the 
exercise of his own free will. 

On March 13, 1881, the Princess Dolgorouki, who, after 
more or less scandal at the court, had become the second wife 
of the emperor, received a warning that her husband was to 
be made the victim of assassination upon that day; mean¬ 
while, the czar was eating what he chose, drinking what he 
liked and going where he pleased, just as would any free and 
untrammeled citizen of our own republic, who feared nothing 
in consequence of the free exercise of his will. 

Nevertheless, on the day when the princess received this 
communication, in her anxiety for the welfare of her imperial 
consort, she solicited him to remain at home. The temper of 
Alexander would not brook the pleadings of a devoted wife, 
nor was his intellect convinced by the arguments of Melikoff, 
and he went to witness one of those gorgeous military parades 
for which St. Petersburg has long been distinguished, that 
was to occur upon the parade ground of the Michel Manage. 
He was expected to drive from this parade ground to the 
Winter Palace along the Neosky Prospect. On this day, how¬ 
ever, he chose a route running along the bank of the Catherine 
Canal. On the way to the palace, the czar, riding in a car¬ 
riage, was the centre of a rapidly-moving group, in whose 
ranks were included many officers of the imperial household, 
mounted on horseback; he had reached a point near the stable 
bridge which spans the canal, when, at a moment and in a 
manner entirely unexpected, he received his death wound. 
From under the garden wall of the Michel Palace there sprang 
a man in the dress of a peasant, who had been patiently wait¬ 
ing the arrival of the imperial party, by the bank of the canal. 
This man, as the Czar’s carriage passed, threw a bomb with 
such fatal effect that, falling behind the carriage, it shattered 
the back of the vehicle, killed and wounded several soldiers 


230 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


and bystanders, and threw the fragments of the carriage over 
the monarch’s head. Alexander, nevertheless, was unhurt, 
and at once stepped from the vehicle to assist a wounded 
soldier. Scarcely two minutes had elapsed when another man, 
a confederate of the first, threw a second bomb from the arch¬ 
way of the gate leading into the Summer Garden. This missile 
fell at the feet of the Czar and wrought a havoc which the 
thrower could have scarcely expected. Columns of glittering 
snow arose high in the air, interspersed with which were flying 
fragments of wood and glass; the windows of the imperial 
stables broke with a crashing reverberation upon the still air, 
blown into myriads of pieces; the white mantle of the earth, 
gleaming with refractions such as diamonds themselves can 
scarcely produce, was dyed red with the blood which flowed 
from the death wounds of twenty killed and wounded men. 
Among those who perished was the man who had thrown the 
second bomb, destro} r ed by his own weapon. The lower limbs 
of the Czar were fearfully shattered, and his left eye was bulg¬ 
ing from its socket; his clothing was literally in rags and 
tatters. When those around him tenderly raised his prostrate 
form, he feebly lifted his right hand, from which the blood 
was gushing, toward his forehead, and murmured, “Holodus, 
holodus, ” (Cold, cold). The Grand Duke Michael, whose 
heart was filled with sympathy, quickly seized a cap from one 
of the bystanders and placed it upon the head of the czar. 
The dying man said, in a broken voice, “To the palace— 
quick; die there.” He was placed upon a sledge, with his 
head, which was covered with blood, resting upon the breast 
of the chief of police, and was driven rapidly to the Winter 
Palace, where he expired about four o’clock that day. 

No Emperor of Germany has ever been more warmly 
beloved by his subjects, or more generally respected by the 
world at large, than William I. Supported by one of the 
ablest prime ministers of modern times, Prince Bismarck, he 
accomplished the unification of the German Empire and 
blended into one common bond the hearts and allegiance of 
all those who were naturally related through the inheritance of 
German blood, or the use of the German tongue. It was he 


ASSASSINATION—CONTINUED 


231 


who led the German armies upon their march which tri¬ 
umphed at Sedan and ended gloriously at Paris. His personal 
life was as free from scandal as his domestic relations were 
full of happiness. That he had made enemies is true; but, as 
a rule, the man who makes no enemies deserves no friends. 

Although almost deified by the enthusiasts of Germany, but 
a few years passed before a dastardly attempt was made upon 
the life of this grand, yet simple-minded, old man. On May 
11, 1878, a mere lad of nineteen, named Emil Max Hordel, 
attempted to take the life of the Emperor. Hordel was a 
native of Leipsic, and had manifested a wild disposition from 
his childhood. As a boy he had been guilty of imprudence 
and suspected of dishonesty. By trade he was a tinsmith, 
while so far as his political convictions went, he avowed him¬ 
self to have been first a socialist, and later on an anarchist. 
He had repeatedly made the remark in public places, that “a 
certain thick-headed person might be disposed of very sud¬ 
denly.” To the taking of his photograph under police 
supervision, he interposed no objection. In fact, he assured 
the photographer that the time would come when tens of thou¬ 
sands of copies of his “false presentment” would be hawked 
about the streets of the German capital. As William was 
driving through that world-renowned avenue of Berlin known 
as “Unter den Linden,” young Hordel fired upon him, dis¬ 
charging two barrels of his revolver without effect. He was 
speedily tried and sentenced to death, receiving his sentence 
with a sneer of contempt. His execution, which was by 
decapitation, took place in the courtyard of the New Prison at 
Berlin, on Friday, August 18, 1878. 

Before punishment was meted out to Hordel, indeed, only 
three weeks after the futile attempt of the youthful tinsmith, 
the Emperor was fired upon from a window near the scene of 
the former murderous assault. The would-be assassin was 
one Dr. Karl Nobling, a man of liberal education and consider¬ 
able scientific attainments. The weapon employed was a 
double-barreled shotgun, both barrels of which were dis¬ 
charged. The Emperor was riding alone in the royal carriage, 
accompanied by a few personal guards. About thirty shots 


232 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


lodged in the person of William, chiefly in the arms and back, 
but his injuries were not serious. The apartments of the 
wretch were at once broken open. Nobling fired upon and 
wounded the keeper of the hotel, who accompanied the guards 
in their search. Rather than submit to arrest he shot himself, 
and died from the effects of his wound on September ioth, 
following. The crime of Doctor Nobling was due solely to 
political fanaticism, as he was clearly an entirely sane man. 
His offense may be classed with the murderous acts of the 
Chicago anarchists, detailed in another chapter. 


CHAPTER XIV 

ASSASSINATIONS IN AMERICA —THE MAFIA 

To the credit of America and her free institutions, few 
attempts have ever been made upon the lives of her public 
men, and yet two presidents of the United States have fallen 
at the hands of assassins. 

On April 14, 1865, Abraham Lincoln, the best beloved and 
most gratefully remembered of any president since the days of 
Washington, was brutally assassinated by John Wilkes Booth, 
an actor, and a member of one of the most famous families of 
American tragedians. The death of the “Martyred Presi¬ 
dent,” as Lincoln is now very generally called, occurred at the 
close of the long and fiercely contested civil war, and threw a 
dark and impenetrable pall over the land, changing the rejoic¬ 
ings of millions of people into deep and heart-felt sorrow. 
On the ninth of April, 1865, General Lee surrendered his 
army to General Grant at Appomattox Court House, and the 
war was at an end. Mr. Lincoln returned from Richmond, 
Va., the occupation of which by the Federal troops on April 
4th virtually ended the long struggle. 

It is difficult to appreciate the feelings that must have 
swayed the heart of this truly great and patriotic man. 
Largely through his efforts, the nation had been preserved 
with its constitution intact, and without a single star having 
been lost from its glorious flag. Much remained, however, to 
be done, and no one better appreciated this than Lincoln him¬ 
self. The wounds of a nation were still freshly bleeding, 
hardly a household in the land but mourned the untimely 
death of husband, father or son; the South was in a state of 
chaos, and must be reconstructed. These matters filled Lin¬ 
coln’s mind after his return from Richmond. He had already 

233 


234 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


suggested something of his plans, and was anxious to begin 
the work of restoring the rule of law and order throughout the 
country. 

It has often been charged that the horrid conspiracy that 
cost the nation its Chief Magistrate had its origin with the 
leaders of the great Rebellion. There were some grounds for 
this belief at the time, and President Johnson was doubtless 
justified in the proclamation he issued on the second day of 
May, declaring that the assassination was chargeable to acts of 
Jefferson Davis, Jacob Thompson and other officials of the late 
Southern Confederacy, and offering large rewards for their 
arrest. As a matter of fact, nothing could have happened 
more disastrous to the interests of the Southern people than 
the death of President Lincoln. He had promised them fair 
treatment, and the people of the South had learned that he 
was a man of his word. On the other hand, they had every 
reason to distrust the Vice-President, Andrew Johnson. A 
Southern man himself, he was regarded as a renegade to his 
section, and was hated by every genuine secessionist. As 
military governor of Tennessee he had acted in an arbitrary 
manner, and the South had nothing to hope for at his hands. 
The tragic death of Lincoln sent a thrill of dismay through the 
breasts of those who had lately been in rebellion against the 
government. They knew that the assassination would be 
charged to their account, and that their political prospects had 
been injured, if not absolutely blasted. Looked at in this 
light, it seems certain that Lincoln did not fall at the instiga¬ 
tion of Southern men. 

On that fatal 14th of April, the President was in a happy, 
though thoughtful, mood. At breakfast, he conversed with 
his son Robert; between eleven and twelve o’clock, he 
attended a cabinet meeting, at which General Grant was pres¬ 
ent, and all remarked his cheerful appearance and afterwards 
testified that he expressed the kindliest feelings and the most 
liberal intentions toward the South. Later in the day, he 
drove out with Mrs. Lincoln. On that occasion he said to his 
wife: “We have had a hard time together since we came to 
Washington, but now the war is over, and with God’s blessing 


ASSASSINATIONS IN AMERICA 


235 


upon us, we may hope for four years of happiness, and then 
we will go back to Illinois, and pass the remainder of our lives 
in peace.” 

The press had prominently announced that the President 
and General Grant would, that evening, attend Ford’s Theatre 
in Washington, where the play of ‘‘Our American Cousin” was 
to be presented. A previous engagement of General Grant 
prevented his accompanying the President, and was, no doubt, 
the means of saving his life to the nation, since it is almost 
certain that his death as well as that of Lincoln had been 
decreed. Mr. Lincoln, his wife and party arrived about nine 
o’clock, and were received by the immense audience with 
every manifestation of delight. In the midst of the play, a 
shot rang out, and a man, holding a bloody dagger in his 
hand, leaped from the President’s box to the stage, shouted 
out the motto of the State of Virginia, “Sic Semper Tyrannis" 
—Ever so to tyrants—and disappeared behind the scene. The 
blood upon the dagger was that of Major Rathbone, who was 
one of the President’s party. He had seized the assassin, who 
cut him quite severely in the arm and broke away. Mr. 
Lincoln fell forward into the arms of his wife. The first 
surgeon to arrive announced the wound mortal, a bullet hav¬ 
ing penetrated his brain. He was removed to a house in the 
neighborhood, where he died about seven o’clock the follow¬ 
ing morning, without having recovered consciousness. 

The assassin of President Lincoln, and the real head of the 
conspiracy, was John Wilkes Booth, an actor of ability, the son 
of Junius Brutus Booth, and the brother of the late Edwin 
Booth, both of whom were among the foremost of all the 
tragedians of America. On the same night that the actor 
accomplished his foul design, a desperate attempt was made to 
take the life of William H. Seward, Secretary of State. A 
wretch known as Payne, but whose real name was Powell, 
forced his way into the house where the secretary was confined 
to his bed by reason of injuries received by being thrown from 
his carriage, and attacked Mr. Seward in his bed, cutting and 
stabbing him terribly. His life was only saved through the 
heroic efforts of his sons and daughter and a nurse named 


23 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Robinson. Frederick Seward, one of the secretary’s sons, 
was struck a blow on the head with a pistol which fractured 
his skull and rendered him insensible. 

In tragically leaping upon the stage, Booth became 
entangled in some of the decorations, in consequence of which 
he did not alight fairly upon his feet, and a bone in one of his 
legs was broken. Notwithstanding this, he made his way to 
the stage entrance of the theatre, where a horse was in wait¬ 
ing, upon which he escaped from the city. The assassin 
remained a week in hiding, his fractured leg having been set 
in the meantime by Dr. Mudd. On the 21st of April, a party 
of soldiers located him in a barn, where he had concealed him¬ 
self, together with one of the conspirators named Herold. 
After a number of shots had been exchanged, the party fired 
the barn, whereupon Herold came out and surrendered him¬ 
self, but Booth refused to do so. Standing almost in the 
flames, he leaned upon his crutch and opened fire upon his 
would be captors, whereupon a soldier named Boston Corbett 
killed him with a shot from a revolver, for which act he was 
severely censured, as the orders were to take Booth alive. At 
the time of his death, the assassin was but twenty-six years 
old. 

A number of persons were arrested, and evidences of a 
deep-laid plot to assassinate, not*only the President and secre¬ 
tary of state, but a number of other prominent public men, 
was speedily discovered. The conspirators met at the house 
of a Mrs. Surratt in Washington, where their diabolical 
schemes were concocted and developed. As the result of a 
rather remarkable trial, before a military commission, five 
persons were convicted of conspiring to take the life of Abra¬ 
ham Lincoln: Mrs. Surratt, Herold, Payne, Alzerodt and Dr. 
Mudd. The three first named were executed, while the others 
were sent to the Dry Tortugas for life, where Alzerodt died 
soon after; Dr. Mudd being ultimately pardoned. 

There were grave doubts in the minds of many people as to 
the extent of Mrs. Surratt’s guilt, and strong efforts were 
made to save her life, but President Johnson refused to com¬ 
mute her sentence, and she died with the others. 


ASSASSINATIONS IN AMERICA 


237 


John Surratt, the son of Mrs. Surratt, and one of the con¬ 
spirators, succeeded in escaping from the country and reaching 
Italy, where he entered the Papal Guards. Afterwards he was 
recognized by an American, Archbishop Hughes, and sur¬ 
rendered to the Government of the United States. Surratt 
was twice tried in Washington. The first trial resulted in a 
disagreement of the jury, and upon the second he escaped by 
pleading the statute of limitations. 

On Saturday, July 2, 1881, the pistol of an assassin, for the 
second time, laid low a president of the United States. James 
A. Garfield, who had filled that high position but four months, 
was shot in the depot of the Baltimore and Potomac Railroad, 
in the city of Washington. The President was about to leave 
the capital to attend the coramencement exercises of his Alma 
Mater, Williams College, at Williamstown, Massachusetts, and 
was accompanied by James G. Blaine, his secretary of state. 
The assassin, one Charles Julius Guiteau, fired twice at Mr. 
Garfield, the second shot tearing a jagged hole in his side 
from which the blood fairly spouted. 

Guiteau made an effort to escape, but ran into the arms of 
a policeman, who placed him under arrest. In his pocket was 
found the following letter: 

“July 2, 1881. 

“To the White House.— The President’s tragic death was a 
sad necessity, but it will unite the Republican party, and save 
the Republic. Life is a flimsy dream, and it matters little 
when one goes. A human life is of small value. During the 
war thousands of brave boys went down without a tear. 

“I presume the President was a Christian, and that he will 
be happier in Paradise than here. It will be no worse for 
Mrs. Garfield, dear soul, to part with her husband this way' 
than by natural death. He is liable to go at any time, any¬ 
way. I had no ill-will toward the President. His death was 
a political necessity. 

“I am a lawyer, a theologian, and a politician. I am a 
Stalwart of the Stalwarts. I was with General Grant and the 
rest of our men, in New York, during the canvass. I have 
some papers for the press, which I shall leave with Byron 
Andrews, and his co-journalists, at 1420 New York Avenue, 
where all the reporters can see them. I am going to the jail. 

“Charles Guiteau.” 


238 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Some time after the murder, District-Attorney Corkhill, 
after a thorough investigation, published a statement which is 
a very accurate account of the movements of the assassin from 
the day he reached Washington down to the time of the mur¬ 
derous assault. It is given here entire: 

“The interest felt by the public in the details of the 
assassination, and the many stories published, justify me in 
stating that the following is a correct and accurate statement 
concerning the points to which reference has been made: The 
assassin, Charles Guiteau, came to Washington City on Sun¬ 
day evening, March 6, 1881, and stopped at the Ebbitt House, 
remaining only one day. He then secured a room in another 
part of the city, and had boarded and roomed at various 
places, the full details of which I* have. On Wednesday, May 
18, 1881, the assassin determined to murder the President. 
He had neither money nor pistol at the time. About the last 
of May he went into O’Meara’s store, corner of Fifteenth and 
F. streets, this city, and examined some pistols, asking for the 
largest calibre. He was shown two similar in calibre, and 
only different in price. On Wednesday, June 8th, he pur¬ 
chased a pistol for which he paid $10, he having, in the mean¬ 
time, borrowed $15 of a gentleman in this city, on the plea 
that he wanted to pay his board bill. On the same evening, 
about seven o’clock, he took the pistol and went to the foot of 
Seventeenth Street, and practiced firing at a board, firing ten 
shots. He then returned to his boarding-house and wiped the 
pistol dry, wrapped it in his coat, and waited his opportunity. 
On Sunday morning, June 15th, he was sitting in Lafayette 
Park, and saw the President leave for the Christian Church on 
Vermont Avenue, and he at once returned to his room, 
obtained his pistol, put it in his pocket, and followed the 
President to church. He entered the church, but found he 
could not kill him there without danger of killing some one 
else. He noticed that the President sat near a window. 
After church he made an examination of the window, and 
found he could reach it without any trouble, and that 
from this point he could shoot the President through the head 
without killing any one else. The following Wednesday, he 


ASSASSINATIONS IN AMERICA 


239 


went to church, examined the location and the window, and 
became satisfied he could accomplish his purpose. He 
determined to make the attempt at the church the following 
Sunday. 

Learning from the papers that the President would leave 
the city on Saturday, the 18th of June, with Mrs. Garfield, for 
Long Branch, he decided to meet him at the depot. He left 
his boarding-house about five o’clock Saturday morning, June 
18th, and went down to the river at the foot of Seventeenth 
Street, and fired five shots to practice his aim, and be certain 
his pistol was in good order. He then went to the depot, with 
his pistol ready, when the presidential party entered. He 
says Mrs. Garfield looked so frail and weak that he had not the 
heart to shoot the President in her presence, and, as he knew 
he would have another opportunity, he left the depot. On 
Wednesday evening, the President and his son, and, I think, 
United States Marshal Henry, went out for a ride. The 
assassin took his pistol and followed them, and watched them 
for some time, in hopes the carriage would stop, but no oppor¬ 
tunity was given. On Friday evening, July 1st, he was sitting 
on the seat in the park opposite the White House, when he 
saw the President come out alone. He followed him down the 
avenue to Fifteenth Street, and then kept on the opposite side 
of the street upon Fifteenth, until the President entered the 
residence of Secretary Blaine. He waited at the corner of 
Fifteenth and H. streets for some time, and then, as he was 
afraid he would attract attention, he went into the alley in 
the rear of Mr. Morton’s residence, examined his pistol and 
waited. The President and Secretary Blaine came out 
together, and he followed over to the gate of the White 
House, but could get no opportunity to use his weapon. On 
the morning of Saturday, July 2d, he breakfasted at the Riggs 
House about seven o’clock. He then walked up into the park 
and rode to Sixth Street, got out and went into the depot, and 
loitered around there; had his shoes blacked; engaged a hack- 
man for two dollars to take him to the jail; went into the 
water-closet and took his pistol out of his hip-pocket, and 
unwrapped the paper from around it, which he had put there 


240 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


for the purpose of preventing the perspiration from the body- 
dampening the powder; examined his pistol; carefully tried 
the trigger, and then returned and took a seat in the ladies’ 
waiting room, and, as soon as the President entered, advanced 
behind him and fired two shots. 

“These facts, I think, can be relied upon as accurate, and 
I give them to the public to contradict certain false rumors in 
connection with the most atrocious of atrocious crimes. ’ ’ 

After languishing in great anguish for nearly three months, 
President Garfield died September 19, 1881, at Elberon, N. J. 
On Friday, October 14, 1881, Guiteau was arraigned on the 
charge of having murdered him. He was quite ably defended 
by his sister’s husband, George Scoville, of the Chicago bar, 
the defense being insanity. The prisoner insisted on con¬ 
ducting his own case, and very frequently interrupted the pro¬ 
ceedings of the court, which ruled that he could not do so. 
His antics and tirades were probably indulged in to sustain his 
defense of insanity, although he persisted that he was entirely 
sane, and that the killing of the President was necessary for 
the good of the country. 

A large amount of expert medical testimony was intro¬ 
duced, which, as is usually the case, was of a highly contra¬ 
dictory character. Guiteau was found guilty, and on February 
4, 1882, was sentenced to be hanged on the 30th of the follow¬ 
ing June. He was executed on that day, to the great satisfac¬ 
tion of nearly every citizen of the United States. 

Guiteau was an intense egotist, and conceived a hatred for 
President Garfield, because certain services that he claimed to 
have rendered during the campaign preceding the election 
were not recognized. He was undoubtedly unbalanced in 
some regards, but there can be no doubt but what he knew the 
difference between right and wrong, and fully realized the 
enormity of his offense. It seems probable that the moving 
cause to his awful crime was a morbid desire for notoriety, 
coupled, perhaps, with an impulse to take life. 

In 1893 the mayor of the city of Chicago, Carter H. Har¬ 
rison, was murdered in much the same manner as President 
Garfield was assassinated, and from much the same cause. 


ASSASSINATIONS IN AMERICA 


241 


While serving his fifth term as mayor, Harrison was shot down 
in his residence, on the evening of October 30, 1893, by one 
Patrick Eugene Prendergast. Mayor Harrison was very 
democratic in his habits, and was always accessible to callers, 
of whatever condition in life. Prendergast was shown into 
the library, and almost immediately opened fire upon his 
victim. The mayor fell desperately wounded to the floor, and 
expired almost immediately. The assassin fled from the 
house, but subsequently surrendered himself to the police. 

As in the case of Guiteau, the defense offered for Prender¬ 
gast was that of insanity. Between the two there were not 
wanting some striking points of resemblance; neither had any 
real motive for the perpetration of his crime, while each pre¬ 
tended that he had been prompted to the act because of the 
failure of the victim to keep certain promises of political 
preferment. Both were possessd of most inordinate egotism, 
and, in a certain sense, were lacking in understanding. Yet 
they unquestionably realized the extent of their wrong¬ 
doing, and, in the opinion of most candid and humane people, 
were rightly condemned. Prendergast was convicted and 
promptly executed. 

In no country in the world, perhaps, is there a more strik¬ 
ing contrast between the moral and material aspects than in 
the island of Sicily. Probably no Italian city presents a more 
charming picture to the eye of a traveler than does Palermo, 
with its attractive environments and its beautiful harbor, 
which has been poetically named the “Golden Shell.’’ The 
fertile soil surrounding this picturesque old town slopes gently 
from the mountains to the sea, and affords the traveler a rare 
glimpse of natural beauty, heightened by the cultivation which 
has been bestowed upon the land by man. Lemon and orange 
groves, interspersed with orchards of almonds and fig trees, 
stretch out in every direction, and the air is laden with 
Nature’s perfumes. To a stranger the scene appears like a 
terrestrial paradise, and he finds it difficult to believe that into 
such a garden any serpent of evil could obtain admission. 

Yet, a traveler cannot be many days in Palermo without 
being startled by hearing innumerable tales of crimes of 


242 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


violence. The citizens point out to him localities where mur¬ 
ders have been committed for the most trivial causes, and his 
dreams are apt to be haunted by visions of red-handed assas¬ 
sins or their struggling victims. In fact, Sicily is better 
known to the world at large as the home of murderers than for 
the luxuriance of its vegetation or the natural beauty of the 
island itself. 

There is no inherent reason why this state of affairs should 
exist. Nature has rendered it easy for the Sicilian to obtain a 
livelihood. Along the maritime belt which stretches from 
Palermo to Messina the growth of fruit is easy and attended by 
large profits. An Italian writer of some twenty years ago, 
Senor Francetti, is authority for the statement that one and 
one-half acres placed under cultivation as a lemon grove will, 
with proper care, yield an annual profit of five hundred dollars. 
Figs, than which few fruits are more refreshing, hang like 
berries along our hedge-rows. In January the black twigs of 
the almond trees are transformed into blooming sprays of 
white, which call to the mind the legend of St. Joseph’s rod. 
It is trufe, however, that the interior of the island affords a 
striking contrast to this garden spot. There trees are few, 
and houses are sometimes leagues apart. But the natives, as 
a rule, live near the coast where nature smiles upon them, 
and, as it were, would seem to invite them to a life of peace. 
But there are moral causes at work more potent than the 
influence of nature or the teachings of religion, nor do those 
who may be supposed best qualified to judge predict any 
change for the better in the island of Sicily for many years to 
come. In the northeastern corner of the island a majority of 
the inhabitants are the descendants of the Arab and African 
races, and this admixture of blood does not produce people apt 
to entertain any particular repugnance to the taking of human 
life. Moreover, the country abounds with the descendants of 
the many bravos whom the nobles of Palermo once kept in 
their trains. This class probably cherished family traditions 
of violence and assassination. Palermo, the capital, and its 
vicinity, have been the particular theatre of disturbances. It 
has been said that the metropolis of a country may be 


THE MAFIA 


243 


regarded as the very personification of its prevailing spirit, 
since there the moral tendencies, of the' people concentrate. 
Conceding the truth of this theory, it argues poorly for the 
morality of the Sicilians as a whole, that the picturesque city 
of Palermo should be the chief seat of the blood-thirsty order 
known as “The Mafia.” It is there, too, that the hereditary 
hatreds of any standing vendetta of the middle ages are yet 
rife. Volumes might be filled with tales of the tragedies that 
have occurred during the past few years among these modern 
Montagues and Capulets. Not many years ago, the breaking 
out of a feud between two rival families in a little village in 
the district of Palermo, with the accompanying assassination 
of one of the chiefs of the hostile houses, brought about almost 
a civil war, and the sanguinary feud resulted in the perpetra¬ 
tion of not less than thirty-five homicides in a single year. 
The peasants point out the localities of these crimes with an 
indifference born of familiarity. “Under this tree,” one is 
told, “a poor bailiff was assassinated because he had been pre¬ 
ferred by his employer to another applicant endorsed by one 
of the formidable associations of murderers with which the 
island abounded.” “Where that road winds around the base 
of the vine-clad hill, the proprietor of the estate received the 
startling intimation that he had shown a contumacious spirit. 
A bullet was fired through his hat by a desperado concealed 
behind the rocks.” A little further along the road, perhaps, 
is indicated a spot where a young man was shot dead on the 
highway. What had been his offense? He had been prominent 
in promoting works of public benefit, and was becoming too 
popular for the welfare of those in authority. Naturally 
enough, the American or average European, listening to these 
tales, is more or less incredulous. Their repetition, however, 
joined to his own knowledge of the history of Sicily derived 
from other sources, compels him to believe in their truth. It 
is not easy for the subject of any civilized power, and, least of 
all, for the citizen of any thoroughly constituted republic, to 
suppose that assassination could be rife in one of the provinces 
of Italy if the Italian government were strong enough to 
repress it. The theory upon which papal domination was 


i 


244 MURDER IN ALL AGES 

overturned was that all government derives its just powers 
from the consent of the governed. Should the same principle 
be applied in its legitimate operation to the island of Sicily, it 
would be difficult to perceive under what theory the reigning 
monarch of Italy claimed ascendency over what has been, not 
inaptly, called the very garden of the kingdom. The truth is, 
that the moral tone of the Sicilian is so low that the vendetta 
is considered legitimate, and the decrees of secret societies 
banded together for the purpose of assassination, are regarded 
as of much more binding force and effect than are the judicial 
findings of the courts of law. 

Anglo-Saxon and Teuton point to the middle classes as the 
mainstay and the fundamental prop of the government. In 
Sicily the middle class is, to say the least, very small, and its 
sympathies appear to have been, and to be, rather with the 
wrong-doers than with the officers of the law. The repre¬ 
sentatives of the Italian government upon the island find 
themselves seriously handicapped by the prevalence of this 
sympathy. In fact, if all seeming authentic reports are to be 
credited, they appear to be in doubt as to the limit of their 
authority, to be of the opinion that they exercise power only 
upon the sufferance of the islanders. The only exercise of 
authority with which they can be justly charged is to be found 
in spasmodic raids upon detached bands of assassins as to 
whose safety the leaders have little care. The Sicilian is 
naturally cunning. From his Greek ancestors he inherits a 
gift of diplomacy, while from his Saracen forefathers he derives 
the art of duplicity. Gifted with such a combination of facul¬ 
ties and supported by the moral sense of the community, he is 
more than a match for the slow-going, easily-persuaded repre¬ 
sentative of the government. Should the local administration 
undertake to advance investigation through invoking the aid 
of local celebrities, he is more than likely to find before he has 
completed his inquiry that he has been made merely an 
unreasoning tool for the better accomplishment of nefarious 
ends. 

In no portion of Sicily is the organization known as “The 
Mafia” stronger than in Palermo. It must be admitted, how- 


THE MAFIA 


245 


ever, that as to the precise character of this organization com¬ 
paratively little information of a positively reliable character 
can be obtained. Many native Sicilians deny that it exists as 
an order, and allege that there is no stronger bond of union 
between the various societies upon the island than there was 
among the different bands of robbers which once made the 
crossing of Hounslow Heath a task of no little peril. On the 
other hand, some of those who profess to have carefully 
investigated the workings of the “Mafia” assert that the 
organization should be regarded as a unit, however multiform 
may be the parts under which it presents itself. These 
investigators claim to have discovered positive proof that the 
movements and policy of the entire body are under the control 
of, and directed by, a central authority. They also assert that 
many members of the order at Palermo are men of substance, 
of social standing, and of no little political influence. These 
leaders, it is said, display in the management of the society’s 
affairs the rarest tact and the soundest judgment. It is they 
who select the subjects on whom is to be visited the wrath of 
the organization; it is they who determine to what extent the 
manifestations of the society’s displeasure shall be made; 
whether by a threatening letter, a “shot of persuasion,” or 
absolute murder. It is this social power, so it is said, which 
determines whether operations shall be directed against the 
person, or only against the property, or whether terror must 
be inspired by an increased ferocity. It is also asserted, and 
not without some show of plausibility, that the directorate of 
the Mafia manage and maintain, in some way, a direct influ¬ 
ence o’ver the government at Rome, where their agents suc¬ 
ceed, by intrigue, in securing the removal of obnoxious 
officials and the., appointment of those who may be manipu¬ 
lated by the organization. 

If these allegations be well founded, the condition of affairs 
in Sicily is one not readily understood by the mind of the 
average man who has been reared in a country where civiliza¬ 
tion, if not religion, inspires respect for the constitutional 
authority. Yet, in this island, whose shores are washed by 
the warm and limpid waters of the Mediterranean, and whose 


246 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


coast is kissed by the semi-tropical sun, popular sentiment 
abhors any resort to courts of law, while sanctioning and 
applauding the exercise of personal vengeance. Were it not 
for the existence of this sentiment in the community at large, 
the Mafia would find it impossible to prosper, even if it were 
not exterminated. The prevailing idea is that to invoke the 
aid of the courts, is the one crowning disgrace, the single 
unpardonable sin, which can be laid at the door of a Sicilian. 
Many are the poor workingmen of Palermo who have ended 
their lives in public hospitals, wounded in street brawls, who 
have passed into eternity with their lips sealed as to the names 
of their assailants, thus virtually becoming accessory after the 
fact to their own murders. 

A somewhat remarkable illustration of the prevalence of 
this sentimental principle occurred a few years ago. A noble¬ 
man of Palermo, riding along the highway, was made the 
target for a fusillade of bullets from twelve or fourteen mus¬ 
kets, discharged from behind a stone wall. None of the shots 
happened to take effect, and no complaint was ever made by 
the nobleman to any magistrate, yet circumstances pointed 
very clearly to the identity of his would-be assassins, and 
within ten days each and all of them had perished at the hands 
of hired assassins. Indeed, it is this hiring of assassins which 
renders the operations of the Mafia at once more despicable 
and more dangerous. At the head of the order stands a man 
of wealth, of position and of influence. At the foot are the 
hired bravos, men of the criminal class, whose lives are 
usually already forfeited to justice, and who are insured of 
protection against the execution of the law upon condition 
that they prove faithful to their patrons. 

On the other hand, there are those who have devoted no 
little attention to the investigation of the question, who say 
that the Mafia, as an integral unit, has no existence. That the 
term is applied, in a collective sort of way, to cover all associa¬ 
tions, in whatever part of Sicily they may be located, which 
may look for the accomplishment of a certain end and use 
assassination as a means for its attainment. Thus, according 
to those writers, one band may have for its aim the manipula- 


THE MAFIA 


247 


tion of the ballot-box; another the control of the sale and 
charge of the crown lands; and a third the influencing of the 
apportionment of contracts for public works, and so on. 
Should these societies be able to accomplish the objects for 
which they were respectively organized through legitimate 
agencies, well and good; if not, resort is had to the bullet or 
the dagger. Nor, so these investigators assert, is any secret 
made as to the character of the arguments to be ultimately 
employed. 

In the city of Palermo men may be seen going about the 
streets with swaggering gait, a curt mode of speech, and wear¬ 
ing rakish-looking hats and long locks of hair, somewhat after 
the fashion of the old-time bravos; these are ordinarily sup¬ 
posed to be either members of or in the employ of the Mafia. 
These are they who stand behind the ballot-box and dictate 
the returns of the election. It is the villains of this stamp 
who crowd themselves in the rear of a public auctioneer and 
fix alike the price of the article sold and the name of the 
buyer. The people well know that they are being terrorized, 
yet so entire is the perversion of morals, so great the dread of 
the power of the society, and so abhorrent to the Sicilian 
mind is an appeal to the courts, that they tamely submit. 

Within a comparatively few years two of these organiza¬ 
tions have been exposed and condemned, but as yet it is not 
clear that they have been exterminated. The first, known as 
the “Mulini, ” was ostensibly an association of millers, which 
pretended to have for its object the facilitation of the collec¬ 
tion of the grist tax. As a matter of fact, the “true inward¬ 
ness” of the society was the establishment of a monopoly in 
flour, in order that the price of that commodity might be 
forced up to an artificially high point. The organization 
proved eminently successful, and the people of Palermo, who, 
in times past, had risen in clamorous sedition because of the 
high price of bread, withdrew their support from the author¬ 
ities only for attempting to break up what was virtually an 
association for the oppression of the poor. These circum¬ 
stances emphasized the fact before set forth, that the people 
of Sicily regarded nothing so disgraceful as an appeal to the 


2 4 8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


courts for protection. The second of these societies was that 
of the “Posa,” closely connected with the former. Its avowed 
object was the promotion of mutual assistance among work¬ 
men employed in mills and among the carters engaged in 
carrying the corn. Its real purpose was far different. It 
found no difficulty in levying a tax upon master-millers and 
corn. From the imposition brokers had derived a steady, 
well-assured income. Its sinews of war thus strengthened, it 
found itself able to undertake, with great ardor, its task of 
regulating all sorts and descriptions of business, whether 
political, commercial, or social. Did a proprietor desire an 
attendant for an orange or an olive grove, the Posa dictated 
who should be the beneficiary of the proposed position. Was 
a vineyard to be leased upon the slope of the mountains 
overlooking the “Golden Shell,” not until the consent of this 
order had been obtained did the owner dare to enter into 
arrangements for its cultivation. Indeed, this society even 
assumed the role of peacemakers, composing difficulties in 
families and procuring pensions for indigent scions and poor 
relatives of rich houses. Should the demand of the order not 
be complied with, the services of the hired assassin were at 
once brought into requisition. This fact was so well known 
that the mere preferment of a request known to have come 
from the organization was almost as effectual as was the “dead 
line” at Andersonville; an almost impregnable wall. 

From what has been said some idea may be gleaned of the 
nature and objects of an organization which is known and 
dreaded in every community of which the swarthy children of 
sunny Italy form any considerable percentage. The commis¬ 
sion of open crime is rarely necessary. The power of intrigue 
inherent in the association itself is so well known and so thor¬ 
oughly dreaded that a simple behest, well authenticated, is 
usually sufficient to terrorize the timid. The recalcitrant well 
know that persistence in the refusal to obey such a command 
means the shedding of blood by the unswerving hand of an 
unscrupulous assassin. 

The Italian government has been assailed because of its 
seeming indifference to the condition of affairs in Sicily. It 


THE MAFIA 


249 


has also been accused of doing little or nothing in the way of 
the amelioration of the condition of the inhabitants of the 
island. It should be remembered, however, that behind and 
underlying the administration of all law must be the moral 
force which emanates from the people among whom the law 
is enforced. As has been said, courts of justice in Sicily find 
themselves hampered by the public sentiment which exists in 
nearly if not quite every quarter of the island. Only in rare 
cases will a Sicilian give information which may lead to the 
capture of a delinquent. To denounce a criminal to public 
justice is regarded in very much the same light as would have 
been, in the eighteenth century, the offer of a challenge to the 
police. It is with the utmost difficulty that juries can be 
induced to convict, and a verdict of acquittal is made all the 
more easy through the absence of witnesses, who can very sel¬ 
dom be induced to testify. Should ever an inoffensive wayfarer 
be assassinated, the moment the judicial investigation of the 
crime is begun the weapons, once reeking with the blood of 
the victim, are either buried or hidden, and eye-witnesses 
standing near the scene of the perpetration of the crime, have 
been known to lose at once the sense of sight and hearing, 
while their memory is usually hopelessly at fault. The 
government finds itself compelled to pursue them in detail, 
and its efforts at their apprehension usually prove futile. It is 
hopeless to attempt to stamp out crime in this manner. For 
centuries Sicily has been the theatre of nearly every descrip¬ 
tion of crimes of violence, and at least a century of education 
must pass before public sentiment can be so far aroused and 
quickened into action as to render the commission of this 
description of criminality impossible to the people. 

The recollection of the shooting of certain Italian mur¬ 
derers by a mob in the Parish prison at New Orleans in 1891 is 
too fresh in the public mind to call for especial narration. 
The affair, as will be remembered, came near involving the 
United States in more or less serious complications with Italy, 
from which our government was happily extricated through 
the astute diplomacy of James G. Blaine, then secretary of 
state. It was asserted by the people of New Orleans, and 


250 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


generally believed throughout the country, that the prisoners 
who were killed in the Parish prison were members of the 
notorious order of the Mafia, and that the crime with which 
they were charged had been committed under instructions 
from the chiefs of that organization in the metropolis of 
Louisiana, and in pursuance of a settled and well-defined 
policy of assassination. 

In this connection it is interesting to quote from Mr. St. 
John Brenon, an Irish writer of some note, who accompanied 
Gen. Philip Sheridan during the latter’s visit to Italy in 1881, 
during which trip he acted as the general’s interpreter. After 
General Sheridan’s return to the United States, Mr. Brenon 
remained in Italy for several years, devoting considerable 
time to the study of the nature and workings of the secret 
criminal societies of the Italian peninsula. He is of the 
opinion that the government has succeeded in giving to 
these organizations their death-blow, even if they have not 
been virtually broken up. Mr. Brenon says: 

“In lynching the Mafia ruffians the New Orleans people 
took the only course open to them if they wished to rid the 
city of this murderous gang. Italy treated them in even a 
worse manner. I saw them shot down on the streets of Sicily 
like mad dogs; dozens of them at a time. Their gang was 
absolutely exiled from Italy, and took refuge in America. I 
have heard from an official in Italy, who is in a position to 
know, that the Mafia gang is quite as powerful in New York 
as it is in New Orleans. Under Bourbon rule this criminal 
society originally flourished in Sicily. It was partially sup¬ 
pressed, or at all events its baneful influences weakened, in 
Palermo in i860, when Garibaldi took the administration of 
the city, but it reassumed such dangerous proportions in the 
island in 1866, that the Italian government sought by every 
means possible to root it out of the country. In this endeavor 
it was baffled for years, but finally, by adopting the severest 
repressive measures, to which the New Orleans episode is 
nothing, it managed to make it impossible for the Mafia to 
remain any longer on the island. They migrated in large 
numbers to New Orleans and New York. This was not 


THE MAFIA 


251 


accomplished without heroic public effort. The Mafia had 
powerful political pressure at its command, which made them 
secure for years. 

“I must give you an idea of what the Mafia really is. 
Many nobles of the wealthiest families of Sicily were members 
of it—some from sympathy, others from fear. It differed 
from the Camora society in the fact that it has been always 
leagued with brigandage. For that reason its existence was to 
defy the law and to despise the judiciary of the country. The 
Mafia controlled elections, boycotted when it was in a merci¬ 
ful mood, but as a rule it robbed and assisted indiscriminately 
the purposes of plunder and revenge. It has a code of honor 
called Omerta, which means the code of men who have blood 
in their veins by which all who are members of the Mafia bind 
themselves never to give evidence in a court of law and never 
to seek at law redress for any injury. 

“In alliance with the Mafia is a sub-secret order called 
Fratellanzo, who are a band of assassins, whose motto is: 
‘Sweet is the wine, but sweeter still is the blood of the Chris¬ 
tian!’ Their acknowledged god is Aremi, which is the name 
of the playing-cards of the Sicilians, marked with gold money. 
It therefore signifies gold. Doubtless it is this subdivision of 
the Mafia that is the pest of New Orleans. I am satisfied, 
from personal letters, that the Italian government and Italian 
people, save those who outwardly are influenced by party feel¬ 
ing, admit that the citizens of New Orleans did right in pun¬ 
ishing in a summary way those wretches. They, in a 
measure, imitated the methods adopted by General Pallavinci 
when he successfully put down brigandage in Calabria by 
shooting wholesale, not only the Mafia brigands, but those 
who gave them shelter. In 1866 the Messina Camora was 
scotched by killing without trial and lynching at one coup 
twenty-nine of the worst members of this society. Against 
this kind of justice the Italians made no complaint, but on the 
contrary expressed thanks to the government for ridding the 
island of a class that terrified law-abiding citizens.” 


CHAPTER XV 
THE ASSASSINS 

The Orient has given to the world no end of legends and 
tales, many of which the novelists and dramatists of the Occi¬ 
dent still utilize as plots and motives about which to build 
entrancing romances and moving plays. Fabulous in plot and 
rich in imagery as was the ancient literature of Arabia, it was 
not a great exaggeration of some pages taken from the 
authentic history of the Mohammedan nations. Remove the 
Genii from the Arabian Nights, and quite as wonderful stories 
can be found in the annals of the Assassins. 

Originally a most austere and ascetic faith, Islam gradually 
grew to be the personification of all that was self-indulgent and 
gross, and finally became the haven for all debased and cor¬ 
rupted souls who desired to give full rein to their licentious 
passions and, at the same time, securely cloak their immoral 
lives under the form of strict religious observances. To this 
policy must be ascribed the remarkable, unparalleled rise of 
the new faith, whose propaganda was the sword, and whose 
final reward was an eternity of licentious bliss. But, while 
this course rendered Islam great, conquered empires and 
spread its faith in all directions, it ultimately led to its decline 
and fall. Thus the primal strength of the Mohammedans 
proved their ultimate weakness. Had the followers of Islam 
practiced the severe morals and methods of Christianity, 
there is no reason to doubt but what they would have con¬ 
quered the world and established a universal, though perhaps 
brief, empire. Students of history will remember how Han¬ 
nibal, when he had brought his victorious Carthaginians 
almost to the gates of Rome, foolishly went into winter 
quarters at Capua, one of the most luxurious and vicious of all 

252 


THE ASSASSINS 


25 3 


the voluptuous cities of Southern Italy. Here the army of 
the invader fell victims to the enervating effects of three 
months of riotous dissipation, and, in consequence, were 
unable to contend with the more abstemious soldiers of Rome. 
The fall of the Roman Empire itself must largely be assigned 
to the same cause. 

The story of the fall of Moslem power in Northern Africa, 
Western Asia and Southern Europe presents points of decided 
similarity to the failure of Hannibal and the decline of Rome. 
While success stimulates, it not infrequently intoxicates. 
This was the case with the Moslems. Their victories were so 
numerous and uniform that they came to regard themselves as 
invincible, and believed that their manifest destiny was the 
subjugation of all the “infidel” nations. In the meantime, 
indulgence in vices had weakened them, physically, mentally 
and morally, and they were soon unable to cope with their 
opponents, who were fighting for country and religion. Thus 
began the disintegration of the nucleus of what might well 
have become a vast and powerful empire. One of the strong¬ 
est elements in breaking down the power of Islam and scatter¬ 
ing to the four winds of heaven the fruits of its past victories, 
was found in the order known as Ismaelites, a secret society 
having its headquarters at Cairo, whose members claimed 
descent from Ismael, the last of the seven so-called Imaums, 
and who declared that they alone were entitled to the Califate. 
This organization gave an allegorical interpretation to the 
precepts of Islam, which led, as their adversaries asserted, to 
considering all positive religions equally right, and all actions 
morally indifferent. The growth and development of the 
atrocious order of the Assassins, to which the present chapter 
is devoted, seems a perfectly natural and legitimate sequence 
of such teachings. 

The real origin of the Ismaelites, who were destined to have 
a mighty effect in the downfall of Islam, and from which 
sprang the semi-military organization known as the Assassins, 
is at once of interest and value. This sect existed for some 
time unnoticed, and it did not become prominent until the 
ninth century, and owed its prominence at that time to Abdal- 


254 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


lah Ibu Maimun, whose father had been put to death for pro¬ 
fessing materialistic doctrines, and trying to turn the people 
away from Islam. Abdallah adopted his father’s doctrines, 
but used greater caution in propagating them. His object 
seems to have been to undermine and abrogate all Islam and 
substitute for it materialism, atheism and immorality. 

Abdallah appears to have early perceived that it was the 
height of folly to attempt the overthrow of any prevailing 
religion which was supported by the armies of the reigning 
dynasty, and that there was scarcely more hope of overturning 
the dynasty which was upheld by the precepts and influence 
of a priesthood that was supposed by the people to have been 
divinely appointed. He perceived that in order to accomplish 
his purpose it would be necessary, in the first place, to sunder 
the relation existing between the church and state, between 
monarchy on the one hand, and priestcraft on the other. A man 
without courage might have been appalled by the extent of 
such a conception, but the very difficulties in his path would 
seem to have served as a stimulus alike to Abdallah’s ambi¬ 
tion and his energy. He saw that in order to bring about 
results at which he aimed, it would be indispensable to 
organize a society bound together by oaths of inviolable 
secrecy. Accordingly, he devised a scheme for the formation 
of such an association, in which there would be seven degrees 
of initiation, and which he surrounded with mysterious rites. 
Little by little, the neophyte was instructed in the doctrines 
which Abdallah was about to promulgate, and gradually he 
learned the aims of the order with which he had connected 
himself. In the highest degree he was taught the vanity of 
all religion and the utter uselessness of attempting the practice 
of any form of virtue. The ideas of the founder of this 
strange sect were industriously propagated during his lifetime 
by missionaries known as Dais, who traveled through Western 
Asia and Northern Africa, disseminating these doctrines. 

One of the most prominent of all the Ismaelites was 
Hassan-ben-Sabbeh-el-Hamairi. Hassan was of Persian 
descent, and at Nishpur, about the middle of the eleventh 
century, had studied under the celebrated Mowasek. Thor- 


THE ASSASSINS 


255 


x oughly imbued with the free-thinking tendencies of Persia, he 

had obtained from Ismaelite Dais, or religious leaders and 
instructors, an insight into their secret doctrines, and a partial 
consecration to the rank of Dai. Not, however, until after the 
accession to power of the caliph Melenshah did he emerge from 
obscurity. It was not long after his formal appearance at the 
court of this prince before he acquired great influence. 
Unfortunately for the prosecution of his plans, however, a 
report reached the caliph’s ears that Hassan had said that if he 
had at his bidding two devoted friends he would soon overturn 
the power of the Sultan and the grand vizier. These words 
were construed as indicating that Hassan cherished treason¬ 
able projects, and was contemplating the overthrow of the 
reigning dynasty. Fearful of falling under the displeasure of 
Melenshah, he repaired to the court of the Caliph Mostaussur, 
who received him with distinguished honor and loaded him 
with marks of favor. It was not long before he became 
involved in trouble with the commander of the Castle Dami- 
etta and was thrown into prison. Immediately upon his 
release, this arch-conspirator went to Syria, in which country, 
during several years of his sojourn, he made many converts. 
Traveling over the country, he finally arrived, with some of 
his followers, at the Castle Alamut (Vulture’s Nest) in the 
Persian district of Rudbar, about the year 1090. This fortress 
had always been regarded as impregnable, but partly through 
stratagem and partly by force, it fell into the hands of Hassan 
and soon became both the base of his future operations and 
the seat of his power. Its fortifications were at once strength¬ 
ened, and it became in fact, as it had been considered before, 
absolutely impregnable. 

Secure in his fortress, Hassan began the work of organiz¬ 
ing what he had for years contemplated, a rival society to the 
Ismaelites, which he proposed to propagate by means of 
systematic murder. This order was known as the Ismanilians, 
or Hassanis, frequently spoken of as the “Eastern Ismaelites,’’ 
and was designed to become a terror to his powerful neigh¬ 
bors. Hassan-ben-Sabbeh soon assumed the title of Sidua, 
which signifies “our lord,’’ although he was frequently desig- 


256 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


nated as “The Old Man,” or “Supreme Master of the Moun¬ 
tain,” because his followers always ensconced themselves in 
castles in the mountainous regions. As regards his authority, 
it cannot be said to have been that of either king or prince, 
but was rather in the nature of the rule exercised by a sheik. 
For nearly three centuries this powerful, unscrupulous and 
finely organized military society proved the terror of neigh¬ 
boring Oriental monarchies. Not only did it assail the 
temporal power of States, but with equal avidity strove to 
undermine and destroy all religions. Its fundamental prin¬ 
ciple seems to have been that neither in this world nor the next 
would virtue be rewarded or wrong-doing punished. Their 
pretensions to temporal power by divine right were based on 
the claim that Ali and his posterity were the only rightful 
succession to the prophet Mohammed. 

The internal constitution of the society, which has some 
resemblance to the orders of Christian knighthood, was as fol¬ 
lows: First, as supreme and absolute ruler, came the Sheikh - 
al-jebal, the Prince, or Old Man of the Mountain. His 
vicegerents in Jebal, Kuhistan, and Syria were the three 
Dai-al-Kebir, or grand-priors of the order. Next came the 
Dais and Refiks, which last were not, however, initiated like 
the former, into every stage of secret doctrines, and had no 
authority as teachers. To the uninitiated belonged, first of all 
the Fedavies or Fedais—i. e., the devoted; a band of resolute 
youths, the ever-ready and blindly obedient executioners of 
the Old Man of the Mountain. The Lasiks, or novices, 
formed the sixth division of the order, and the laborers and 
mechanics the seventh. Upon these, the most rigid observ¬ 
ance of the Koran was enjoined; while the initiated, on the 
contrary, looked upon all positive religion as null. 

Wicked and depraved as he undoubtedly was, Hassan was 
a man of marked ability, and possessed distinguished powers 
as an organizer. In addition to providing a model for the 
society, he prepared a code for the instruction of the Dais, or 
missionaries. This may be termed rules of conduct, and 
embraced seven fundamental points. The first of these points 
referred to was “knowledge of the calling,” and purported to 
































THE ASSASSINS 


257 


reveal the essential nature of human character and of the 
impulses governing its actions. The second treated of the 
best methods of “gaining confidence,” and instructed the 
missionaries how best to win converts by flattering their 
vanity and promising them unbridled indulgence of their 
passions. The third presented a system of “Dialectics,” a 
method of argument through the use of which the Dais might 
involve disputants in doubts concerning the positive precepts 
of the Mohammedan faith, and point out the absurdities of the 
Koran. Then came the “Ahd,” or “Oath,” by which the 
emissary bound himself to inviolable silence and absolute sub¬ 
mission. He obligated himsel/ never to impart any doubt as to 
the propriety of his vocation to any one but his superior, whom 
alone he was blindly to obey. The fifth point sought to estab¬ 
lish the claim that the doctrines of the order would accord 
with the beliefs cherished by the greatest minds of all the 
ages. The sixth was a mere recapitulation of the preceding 
five in order that the uninitiated might be confirmed and 
strengthened in his profession. In the seventh point absolute 
atheism was impressed upon the mind of the Dais by the 
means of an allegory in which faith and duty were represented 
as the mere fanaticism of a disordered mind. 

An order based upon the lines we have outlined, and forti¬ 
fied by such ingenious instructions, could not fail to attract 
decided attention, and soon various princes began secretly to 
pay tribute to the Old Man of the Mountain. After a time the 
new order and the successes it was attaining, attracted the 
attention of the Sultan. Although informed of the real nature 
of the Western Ismaelites and the tendency of their teachings, 
the Sultan seems to have treated the matter with supreme 
contempt. He did not rest long in that frame of mind, but 
speedily came to realize that the welfare, possibly the very 
integrity of his empire, was seriously threatened. 

Although it is probable that systematic murder was the 
real cornerstone upon which Hassan from the first planned to 
erect a mighty and most corrupt superstructure, he did not, in 
the outset, make this manifest, but, like the skilful politician 
that he was, kept the strongest point of his entire system 


258 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


entirely in the background. In the meantime, the system of 
instruction that he had introduced had prepared his followers 
for the diabolical work that was at hand. At length he judged 
that the propitious hour had arrived, and started in motion the 
skilfully constructed murderous machine that was to rid him 
of his enemies, by means of poison and the dagger, and bring 
the surrounding princes into a state of subjection. At this 
time there was probably no limit to the ambition of the Old 
Man of the Mountain, who probably expected to ascend the 
throne of the Sultan and make himself—such is the confidence 
born of ambition for power and greed for gold—the supreme 
ruler of the world. 

While murder had doubtless been long secretly practiced 
under the direction of Hassan, the first instance that has come 
down to us was the assassination of Nisamolulk, vizier of the 
Seljukides. His death appears to have been an understood 
signal for the perpetration of murders in a wholesale way. At 
once there began a long series of assassinations, many people 
of great prominence being stricken down. This was not 
tamely submitted to, but met with vigorous retaliation and a 
long and sanguinary strife ensued, in which, thanks to their 
splendid organization and their unscrupulous methods, the 
Assassins, as they may hereafter be called, usually secured the 
larger share of victims. Hassan-ben-Sabbeh and his adherents 
now openly threatened the throne itself, the leader issuing a 
proclamation in which the prominent adherents of the Sultan 
were condemned to death. Those of the highest rank afforded 
the brightest and most shining marks, and were the first to 
fall. The order and the government were now at open war, 
and, between the assassin and the executioner, death reaped a 
rich harvest. 

History abounds with horrible incidents of this most 
unnatural and inhuman warfare, where the principles of 
humanity were thrown to the winds and supplanted by the 
basest of methods. A few illustrations, better than any 
detailed description, will show the horrors of what, for lack of 
a better term, may be termed a civil war. On a prominent 
feast day, as a prince of Mossul was walking in the court of 


THE ASSASSINS 


2 59 


the Grand Mosque, he was stabbed and instantly killed. His 
murderer, who must have known he had no chance for escape, 
was seized and immediately beheaded. Riswau, Prince of 
Aleppo, a rich and powerful dignitary of the north of Syria, 
had protected the Assassins, and more than once made use of 
their swords, daggers and skilfully compounded poisons, for 
the removal of his enemies and the extension of his power. 
His sudden death, although probably the result of natural 
causes, was charged upon the order, and was used as a pretext 
for a most violent assault upon it. Riswau’s son, who suc¬ 
ceeded him, and who appears to have greatly opposed 
Hassan and his dark schemes, promulgated an order for 
the instant death of the Old Man of the Mountain and all his 
followers. 

Although the order fell far short of fulfillment, and Hassan 
was not harmed, a terrible revenge was taken, which was con¬ 
summated after a fashion then peculiar to the East. The 
formalities of the law were ignored, and not less than three 
hundred men, women and children were cast into prison alive, 
there to suffer all the horror of a lingering death through 
starvation. One of the leaders met with a fate peculiarly 
horrible. After being hewed to pieces at one of the gates of 
the city, his limbs were torn off and his head was carried about 
through Syria as a frightful warning to his associates. Some 
of the Assassins were hurled from the top of the walls into the 
moat, while many saved themselves by flight, and others, in 
order to avert the suspicion of being connected with the order, 
denounced their friends, and even murdered them. For this 
slaughter the order took ample revenge, killing their victims 
singly, however, instead of adopting the methods of Riswau. 

The Assassins did not fail to invade Persia, where they 
satiated their bloodthirsty propensities by putting to death 
some of the most illustrious of the court. Among Hassan’s 
lieutenants in this country were the Dais Kia-busurg-omid and 
Abu Ali. Hassan remained supreme commander of the 
organization for thirty-five years, dying in 1124, at the age of 
seventy. Perceiving his death to be approaching, he sent for 
Kia-busurg-omid and Abu Ali and divided the government of 


260 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the order between them. To Abu Ali he gave the power of 
civil administration, including the right to direct its external 
operations. To Kia-busurg-omid he imparted supreme power 
over the spiritual affairs of the organization. 

Although, like all “soldiers of fortune,” skilled in the use 
of the sword, the Assassins do not seem to have affected it to 
any great extent, but preferred the dagger and poison, in the 
preparation and use of which they were highly skilled. Where 
the death of high dignitaries was desired, poison was almost 
always resorted to. In projects of this kind, men highly 
trained in the art of flattery and deception were employed; 
these were masters of the second great point in the code of 
Hassan-ben-Sabbeh. In the use of the poniard these despi¬ 
cable wretches were veritable adepts, a small slender knife 
being in their well-trained hands as effective as a broadsword 
wielded by a burly executioner. The names of the distin¬ 
guished men of various monarchies who fell victims to these 
treacherous methods during the Grand-Mastership of Kia- 
busurg-omid would fill many pages. Immunity from the 
treacherous arts of these miscreants was absolutely unknown, 
since one could hardly be sure that his closest servant, or even 
his friend, might not be a member of the dreaded and accursed 
society. Sometimes they gained entrance to the presence of 
their intended victim in the guise of dervishes, sometimes 
they pretended to be servants, and frequently worked them¬ 
selves into positions of confidence and trust in the establish¬ 
ment of the men they designed to murder. 

When the Crusaders, during the lifetime of Hassan, 
returned to Europe after an effort to reclaim the whole of 
Palestine, they spread, far and wide, the report of the exist¬ 
ence of a dominion within and yet outside of the State, which, 
they maintained, was likely to menace, if it did not over¬ 
throw, Europe. So great was the fear of Philip Augustus of 
France that for years that timid monarch did not dare move 
about his kingdom, unless attended by a strong bodyguard. 

Heckethorn, an English investigator and author of con¬ 
siderable repute, spent much time in the East in the collection 
of facts and traditions calculated to throw light upon the 


THE ASSASSINS 


261 


methods of this most remarkable organization. The follow¬ 
ing paragraph is taken from him: 

“The first two divisions of the Ismaelites were known as 
the self-sacrificers. It was their boast that they despised 
fatigue, danger and even torture, joyfully offering their lives 
whenever it pleased the Grand Master to require them, either 
to protect himself or to execute his mandates of death. No 
sooner was a victim indicated to them than they immediately 
set out to encompass his death, without regard to either dis¬ 
tance or the fatigues of the journey. It was their habit to 
clothe themselves in a white tunic girdled with a red sash—the 
colors of innocence and blood. ’ ’ 

Whatever is said of the Assassins, and no story of cruelty 
or treachery that can be invented would greatly transcend the 
truth, their faith to their Supreme Commander stands out as a 
remarkable instance of fidelity and devotion. As an instance 
of this quality, rare enough even among enlightened and 
virtuous men, the case of one Conrad Montferrat may be cited. 
He had quarreled with the Grand Master of the order, or had 
excited the jealousy of some Christian prince, who desired his 
removal. Upon the order of the Grand Master, two members 
of the association presented themselves as candidates for 
Christian baptism; and while seemingly intent upon the devo¬ 
tions incident to the reception of the sacrament, were actually 
waiting for an opportunity to assassinate their victim. At a 
favorable moment the design was executed, and both men 
fled, one taking refuge in a church. Having learned, how¬ 
ever, that their victim had been removed, Still living, the 
latter villain once more forced his way into Montferrat’s pres¬ 
ence and stabbed him for the second time, the result being 
fatal. He was at once arrested, tried and subjected to the 
very refinement of torture, yet died without any manifestations 
of either remorse or physical suffering. 

It is not easy to conceive the motive for such devotion. 
To the Christian mind, the sufferings of the saints and martyrs 
are sanctified by their faith in the truths of a religion whose 
precepts the Christian world believes to have been as pure as 
they are divine, Why should an assassin willingly sacrifice at 


262 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


once his liberty and his life in the commission of a crime 
actuated by impulses combined of the elements of both per¬ 
sonal devotion and of absolute atheism? Is it not possible 
that here is a revelation alike of the strength and the weakness 
of human nature? The moral character of man is an anomaly. 
The records of the criminal courts show that men have been 
ever ready to commit crimes of a detestable character, and yet 
after the perpetration thereof have stooped to ask a kiss from 
a child. 

Essentially a social creature, men must have associates and 
frequently pine and die when separated from their kind. As 
already pointed out in this volume, thieves and murderers are 
disposed to associate together and hunt their prey in pairs or 
bands. It seems highly probable that something of the feeling 
of fidelity to friends which actuates all good men is retained by 
those who have fallen to the lowest depths of crime, and is 
manifested, in a strange and perverted way, toward their 
accomplices. The long experience of the author in unraveling 
criminal mysteries and bringing guilty parties to punishment 
has convinced him that this is true. He has known burglars 
and murderers, against whom a perfectly clear case of guilt 
was established, refuse to disclose or even give a hint, as to 
the identity of their accomplices, when such a disclosure would 
either have secured them immunity or considerably lessened 
the measure of their punishment. The old saw about “honor 
among thieves’’ undoubtedly has a substantial foundation in 
fact, although the word “honor’’ is not used in the higher 
sense of the term, and the instances are rare. 

Doubtless this feeling, assiduously cultivated as it was by 
the teachings of “the code,” had much to do with the strange 
fidelity of the Assassins, yet this is far from furnishing a 
reasonable explanation of many remarkable instances. The 
people of the East are essentially religious, or, more properly, 
fanatical, and, as in the case of the Stranglers of India, doubt¬ 
less carried much of this perverted sentiment into the dark 
calling to which they dedicated their lives. The very origin 
of the term “Assassin” suggests another, or rather an addi¬ 
tional, explanation. Some philologists derive the word from 


THE ASSASSINS 


263 


the name of the founder of the order, Hassan-ben-Sabbeh, but 
the better authority is that the word comes from the word, 
“hashish,” an intoxicating drug prepared from the Indian 
hemp-plant. The people of the East have been addicted to 
the use of this powerful drug from the earliest times. It is 
said that Hassan used systematically to employ it in stimu¬ 
lating his emissaries—“screwing their courage to the sticking- 
place”—when an act of special daring was required. 

While this policy of Hassan is well established and is 
doubtless true, some of the stories of the methods he employed 
to secure the absolute submission, not to say devotion, of his 
followers must be taken with considerable allowance, and are 
strongly suggestive of the romance that pervades the Orient. 
At the same time, it is highly probable that they contain 
much of truth; indeed, many early writers maintained that the 
folowing story is almost literally true: 

It is related that in one of the provinces of Persia, where 
the famous valley of Mulebad was situated, there was a park 
lying almost in the heart of the mountain, so difficult either of 
egress or ingress that it was entirely possible for one to be 
carried thither in an unconscious state without knowing how 
he approached or how he might leave, what appeared to him 
to be an enchanted region. Oriental legends say that here was 
situated the famous palace of Aladdin, with which the readers 
of the Arabian Nights are familiar. Surrounded by perpen¬ 
dicular cliffs, there was but one avenue of approach to its 
turf, and even this was difficult of discovery by one hemmed 
in by the abruptly rising precipices. According to the Persian 
legend, this delightful spot abounded in luxurious vegetation, 
and was visited by maidens of rare beauty, for whose accom¬ 
modation pavilions had been scattered about. It seems to be 
a striking commentary upon the prevalence of Oriental super¬ 
stition that, inherently improbable as it appears, the followers 
of Hassan professed absolute belief in the existence of this 
miraculous valley. It is said, that to induce devotion on the 
part of his adherents, the “Old Man of the Mountain” first 
made his agents drunk on hashish, and while in this condition, 
caused them to be carried into the valley, where each was left 


264 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


to roam whithersoever he pleased. Gradually his senses 
became more and more intoxicated until all notions of moral 
consciousness had been lost in the delirious whirl of sensual 
gratification. After recovering sufficiently to appreciate his 
delightful surroundings and to understand the charms of the 
sylphs who had engaged his attention, he was in a mental 
condition to believe that he had been transported to Elysium. 
Before he had become sated with pleasure he was again made 
drunk and transported to his own home. When his services 
were required, he was told that he had once been allowed to 
enter Paradise, and that if he failed to do the bidding of his 
superior he would never again be permitted to enjoy the same 
delights. 

Whatever the power that held the Assassins in subjection 
and obedience, and it was doubtless of a complex nature, there 
is no doubt but what the Old Man of the Mountain and his suc¬ 
cessors exercised it most unsparingly. History is full of inci¬ 
dents attesting this. About the time of the First Crusade, 
one Henry, Count of Champaign, was traveling in the East, 
presumably on business connected with rescuing the Holy 
Sepulchre. As he was passing in the neighborhood of one of 
Hassan’s strongholds, the Grand Master of the Assassins 
invited him to inspect his fortress. While Hassan and the 
count were making the round of the place, the former made a 
cabalistic sign, well understood by those in attendance; 
whereupon two of the “Faithful” instantly stabbed them¬ 
selves, falling dead at the feet of the astounded visitor. “Say 
but a word,” remarked Hassan, without displaying the slight¬ 
est emotion, “and at a sign from me you shall see them all die 
at your feet.” 

Before the Sultan had learned of the perfect organization, 
absolute devotion, and hence great strength of the Assassins, 
he sent an ambassador to demand the immediate and uncon¬ 
ditional surrender of the rebels. No sooner had the manda¬ 
tory message been delivered than Hassan said to one of his 
followers, “Kill thyself.” This command was instantly, and 
seemingly willingly, obeyed. Turning to another he said, as 
calmly as if ordering a cup of coffee, “Throw thyself from the 


THE ASSASSINS 


265 


tower;” and the body of the faithful servant was instantly 
flying downward toward the rocks two hundred feet below. 
With an affable smile, and without the slightest manifestation 
either of excitement or anger, Hassan said to the astonished 
and horrified ambassador: “Seventy thousand followers obey 
me with like alacrity. Take this answer to thy master.” 

Although the Assassins never succeeded in establishing an 
empire, for the greater part of two centuries they menaced the 
peace of the East and committed crimes innumerable. Their 
decline was due to the same general causes that have over¬ 
thrown kingdoms in all ages; effeminacy and a weakening of 
established rules. With Hassan-ben-Sabbeh died the great 
genius of the order, although among his successors were men 
of marked ability and cruel hearts. Kia-busurg-omid, the 
immediate successor of Hassan, died in 1138, and was followed 
by his son Mohammed, who developed ability as a leader and 
a warrior—on the detestable lines adopted by his order. In 
1163 Hassan II. was foolish and rash enough to extend the 
secret privilege of the initiated—exemption from the positive 
precepts of religion—to the entire body of his people. At the 
same time, he undertook to abolish Islam in his own domin¬ 
ions, which led to his falling a victim to the dagger of his 
brother-in-law. Hassan II. was succeeded by his son, 
Mohammed II., who adopted, essentially, the spirit of his 
father. Under the rather weak rule adopted by him, the 
Syrian Dai-el-Kebir, Sinan became independent, and entered 
into negotiations with Baldwin, the Christian king of Jerusa¬ 
lem, for coming over with his followers, upon certain condi¬ 
tions, to the Christian faith. But, apparently that they might 
not lose the yearly tribute exacted from Sinan, the Templars 
rejected his overtures and killed his envoys. Mohammed II. 
gave a practical illustration of the methods of his murderous 
order, falling a victim to poison administered by his own son, 
who succeeded him as Hassan III. This parricide reinstated 
Islamism, and in so doing obtained the surname of the New 
Islam. Mohammed III., a boy of nine years, was the suc¬ 
cessor of the last-named ruler. His rule was so effeminate as 
to lead to the eventual overthrow of the order. He was mur- 


266 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


dered by the command of his son, Rokn-eddin, who became 
the seventh and last Old Man of the Mountain. 

In 1256 the Assassins of Persia ceased to exist as an organi¬ 
zation. In that year, the Mongolian prince, Hulagu, burst 
with his vast hordes upon the hundred or more hill-forts of 
Persia, held by the Assassins, and succeeded in capturing and 
destroying them all. About the end of the thirteenth century, 
the Syrian branch of the society was also put down, but rem¬ 
nants of the sect continued for some time, to linger in Kuhis- 
tan. After a lapse of a century—to be exact, in 1352—the 
Assassins reappeared in Syria, but never again rose to prom¬ 
inence. It is said that they still exist, as an heretical sect, 
both there and in Persia. The Persian Ismaelites have an 
imaun, or superintendent, in the district of Keem, and still 
live, under the name of Hosseinis, in the neighborhood of 
Alamont. The Syrian branch of the order inhabit the district 
of Massiat, Massyad. In 1809 their castle was taken from 
them by the Nossarius, but was afterwards restored. These 
remnants of the Assassins have ceased the diabolical practices 
of bygone centuries, at least so far as is openly known. 

While the outline here given of the performance of this 
most remarkable organization is drawn from the most 
authentic historical sources, it must be understood that these 
are, for the most part, hostile to the Assassins; consisting as 
they do, of the Christian chroniclers of the Middle Ages and 
the subsidized historians of the orthodox Mohammedans. At 
the same time, it is not probable that the story is greatly 
exaggerated. Eight hundred years ago the western world was 
almost bodily given over to force, brutality and deception, 
and Europe showed many instances of cruelty and wrong that 
might well take rank with the worst acts of the Assassins. So 
great has been the moral progress of civilized man since the 
dark days portrayed in this chapter, that we are almost unable 
to appreciate the moral depravity that then swayed the hearts 
and shaped the actions of those who yearned for power and 
gold. 

There is one passion of the human heart that must have 
had much to do with the rise and remarkable prosperity of the 


THE ASSASSINS 


267 


order of Assassins, to which attention has not yet been 
directed; the innate impulse to take human life. Had the serv¬ 
ants and followers of Hassan-ben-Sabbeh been endowed with 
that horror of murder which now almost universally prevails, 
at least in the western world, such a society as the Assassins 
would have been impossible, inconceivable. But with men in 
whom the homicidal impulse had been given free rein, nay, 
encouraged by present rewards and the promise of immortal 
bliss, the case was far different. In some respects the Assas¬ 
sins resemble the Stranglers of India, who succeeded them in 
order of time. In each the love of killing was developed to 
the highest conceivable point, and made, in a certain sense, a 
part and parcel of the religion, or superstition, they professed 
to follow. 

Who can read this brief chronicle of the Assassins, and 
catch a glimpse of the dark background presented by the 
world of that time—the Christian, as well as the Mohammedan 
and Pagan world—and not believe that mankind has advanced, 
in morals as well as intelligence and civilization, since those 
awful days when the life of a man was counted as less valu¬ 
able than that of the horse he rode? The author does not 
contend that moral improvement is progressing rapidly at the 
present day; he knows that it is advancing slowly, but he 
trusts, and confidently believes, that it is moving in the right 
direction. A single generation shows small changes, but the 
lapse of eight centuries demonstrates the truth of the proposi¬ 
tion that the world is becoming better. 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 

From the earliest ages the Oriental countries have abounded 
in crimes of a revolting character. That this is due to the 
decay of an early civilization has been questioned, but it seems 
probable that such is the truth. While the wants and pleas¬ 
ures of a pastoral people are few and easily satisfied, their 
tendency to debauchery and crime is likewise limited. Our 
civilization began in the East, and upon the East first dawned 
the blighting fire that, in the past history of the world, has 
always accompanied intellectual enlightenment. India, if not 
the actual birthplace, at least the training-school of the race, 
early fell into that degeneracy that is now threatening the 
western nations. The religion of a people has much, every¬ 
thing in fact, to do with its intellectual and moral advance¬ 
ment. 

While the Christian faith is intensely democratic, in that it 
provides one course of life and one means of salvation for all 
classes of men, rich and poor, lord and peasant, that of India is 
essentially two-fold. There is one creed for the educated and 
influential, another for the ignorant and lowly. The former 
is not wanting in elements of true and exalted philosophy, the 
precepts of which have produced many men of high character, 
whose lives and teachings have adorned and elevated 
humanity. 

In remote ages no discrimination seems to have existed, 
and all were taught the principles of right living. For many 
centuries, however, this has been a thing of the past. The 
ancient philosophy is still maintained and nurtured, it is true, 
but it exists only for the higher classes, while the common 
people have long been plunged into absolute degradation. In 

268 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


269 


lieu of the austerities practiced almost universally in the olden 
time, and yet observed in the monastic institutions, where the 
ancient philosophy still exists in something of its original 
purity, the creed of the common people is fairly well expressed 
by the word “license.” Under the outward form of religious 
worship is embodied the secret gratification of almost every 
evil passion. Thus, with the masses of the people of India, 
religion becomes a grotesque parody upon all that is truly 
good and virtuous. European savants visit India, converse 
with its priests, study its ancient sacred books and return with 
glowing accounts of the exalted philosophy still taught there. 
Such men seemingly ignore the distinction we have pointed 
out, and forget to mention the depths of superstition into 
which the masses of the people have fallen, and from which 
the ancient faith, still remembered and taught in the inner 
temples, has not the living force to extricate them. 

Left practically to themselves, the common people, without 
forgetting the name and essential attributes of God, have 
fallen into a most debasing polytheism, and have made a god 
for almost every visible object and passion, whether noble or 
debased. Deities are not confined to the elevating and enno¬ 
bling, but the thief, the drunkard, the voluptuary—the mur¬ 
derer, even—have each some particular deity, to whom he 
acknowledges special obedience, and to whom he looks, and 
that with entire confidence, for the granting of particular and 
special favors. The names of the deities of India are literally 
legion. No European has ever compiled a list of them, and 
such a labor would far transcend the abilities of any one man. 

In all the long catalogue of Indian gods and goddesses, 
perhaps the most debasing and revolting is Kalee, the goddess 
of destruction. Every description, almost, of rapine, whether 
directed against person or property, is under her special pro¬ 
tection and patronage. Her worshipers are numerous, and 
their devotion seems well-nigh unlimited. In her “sacred” 
name the vilest deeds are committed, and the darkest crimes 
exalted into the highest religious duties. So far-reaching is 
this devotion to Kalee, that murder, even when committed for 
the purpose of gain, is regarded as a sacred act, and is sur- 


270 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


rounded by a halo of glory peculiarly its own. Kalee is the 
special deity and patroness of the order of “Thugs,” who 
claim her as peculiarly their own, and in her name commit 
the most enormous and revolting crimes. 

This diabolical, yet most mysterious society, which fastened 
itself upon Hindostan to a much greater extent than is gener¬ 
ally appreciated, possesses a most absorbing interest and is not 
wanting in some of the elements of genuine romance. The 
origin of Kalee is obscured in a vast mass of mythology which 
renders a comprehensive notion of her original attributes 
difficult to obtain. Among its most ancient legends is one to 
the effect that in the beginning of her reign the bloodthirsty 
goddess devoted her personal attention to the disposition of 
the bodies of those slain in her honor. Her commands were 
enshrouded in the most profound secrecy, and no Thug was 
ever permitted to even cast a backward glance upon the scene 
of his crime. It was taught, and actually believed, that the 
society prospered only so long as the behests of the murderous 
goddess were implicitly obeyed. But, long ago, so long that 
the exact date is lost in the mist of years, there came a time— 
so runs the legend implicitly believed by thousands—when 
some perverse and misguided Thug had the extreme hardi¬ 
hood to wilfully disobey one of the precepts of this rather 
tyrannical goddess. Kalee seems to have risen to the 
emergency and struck her devotees a body blow. She 
promptly withdrew from them her personal assistance, and, 
while still demanding victims, no longer disposed of their 
remains, enjoining upon her followers the duty of burying 
their own dead. 

It may be thought that this horrible belief is but a mask 
behind which the perpetrators of hideous crimes hide their real 
personal wickedness. To a certain extent this is no doubt 
true, for mankind always seeks an excuse for its misdeeds, 
yet the Thugs undoubtedly have a certain faith in their self- 
imposed superstition and are thereby led to greater acts of 
crime than they would otherwise dare to commit. 

There is nothing more revolting in the whole history of 
crime, from the most remote times, than is found in the story 


271 


THE THUGS OP INDIA 

of this abominable sect. To the Thug, the implement of mur¬ 
der is the emblem of his religion. In the days of their glory, 
every form of assassination was regarded as a most holy act, 
and, according to the traditional precepts of Kalee, its commis¬ 
sion was the “open sesame” that threw back the gates of para¬ 
dise to either the murderer or robber. There is, in the entire 
history of the world, no instance of a greater perversion of 
religion than is here manifested; it demonstrates how depraved 
hearts may turn sacred things to the basest uses. Organized 
bands of thieves and murderers have existed in all ages and 
countries, but to India alone is reserved the unenviable dis¬ 
tinction of having lifted murder and theft into the domain of 
religion, and surrounded them with so-called sacred cere¬ 
monies and worship. To the minds of those reared in Chris¬ 
tian lands, the opinions and motives of the worshipers of 
Kalee are almost incomprehensible. 

The word Thug is derived from the Hindustani word 
“thoga,” to deceive; hence, literally, a deceiver, a cheat. 
The name Thug is the one by which all grades of this very 
numerous society are known throughout the civilized world, 
but in Hindostan they are distinguished by various appella¬ 
tions, which are employed in different portions of the country. 
In the northern part of the peninsula, they are known as 
“Thugs,” while in the south they are generally designated as 
“Phansigars,” or “Stranglers,” from Phansi, a noose. In the 
south of India the Stranglers formerly operated under the 
patronage of the native chieftains, who shared in the profits of 
their proteges’ thefts and murders. In that section these 
organized murderers usually masked their real occupation 
under some apparent employment, generally the cultivation of 
the soil. 

Both the native and the English governments have taken 
active steps to suppress thuggee—the practices of the Thugs 
—but it is only since 1831 that any really energetic efforts 
have been made on the part of the British authorities to stamp 
out this fearful curse. At present it has well-nigh disappeared, 
though it still exists in some rather remote provinces of India. 
It has, however, left a deep impression upon Indian society 


272 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


and practices, and murder by strangulation is still remarkably 
prevalent there. The operations of the remnants of the 
Thugs still continue to baffle the British detectives, and many 
mysterious crimes go unpunished through the practice of 
methods that have come down from times when thuggee pre¬ 
vailed in all its original, fiendish perfection. In the inquiries 
instituted by the English government, a good deal of light has 
been thrown upon the methods of these murdering villains, 
during the first half of the present century. 

A British officer—Captain Sleeman by name—is authority 
for the statement that the Thugs were accustomed to some¬ 
times operate in gangs of two or three hundred; that they 
traveled in a body, although moving through the country in 
small parties of ten or twenty, the several bands within easy 
reach of each other. The roads selected for their journey 
were usually those running parallel, and their respective 
routes were so laid out that they might all concentrate imme¬ 
diately, should occasion arise. They usually presented the 
appearance of ordinary and inoffensive travelers, and not 
infrequently pretended to be itinerant merchants. When 
circumstances placed them in a position where their compara¬ 
tive wealth would justify them in making a display of the 
same, they assumed the guise of prosperous citizens traveling 
for pleasure. 

Before their practices were interfered with by the agents of 
the law, the Thugs operated in a most systematic and orderly 
manner, having a good organization and being exceedingly 
well disciplined. With as consummate skill as was ever mani¬ 
fested by the best trained European organizations for plunder, 
the Thugs used to haunt the outskirts of small towns and vil¬ 
lages where the authorities would be powerless to combat with 
them in the event of a disturbance. In little parties, appar¬ 
ently disconnected, they would straggle into a town and meet 
at some prearranged rendezvous. Each party, and each 
member of it, had a special duty to perform, usually the 
discovery of the names, wealth and intended movements of 
those about to go upon journeys. 

These bands were comprised of women as well as men; 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


2 7 3 ’ 


whole families, including small children, belonging to them. 
If ever children were born with a heritage of crime and 
shame, these children of the Thugs surely were. It is only by 
understanding this point that we can appreciate how men, 
formed in the image of God, and endowed with the rudiments, 
at least, of conscience, could sink to the depths of superstition, 
cruelty and vice occupied by the Thugs. As an infant, born 
and reared in a Christian home, comes to love true religion 
and the practice of self-denial, generosity and virtue, so the 
infant Thug was, from the very beginning of his conscious 
existence, taught to love the most detestable things; to regard 
theft as the most commendable occupation and to look forward 
to the commission of his first murder, as the youth of the days 
of chivalry eagerly anticipated the first joist or battle that 
might give him a pair of spurs and the honorable name of 
knight. This education has about it something so horrible 
that its equal can hardly be found, in any wholesale way, in the 
entire annals of mankind. The schools of our day are not 
more carefully graded than were those in which the art of 
deception, duplicity, theft and murder were systematically 
taught. In comparison with the academy operated by Fagin, 
from which thieves were graduated and licensed to ply their 
trade, those of the Thugs occupied the position of a post¬ 
graduate course in one of the highest of our modern univer¬ 
sities. From babyhood the children of these wretches were 
associated with every phase of crime, and taught to emulate 
the most wicked and inhuman deeds. Having passed through 
a long novitiate, in which deception and the art of assuming a 
look and bearing of innocence were the chief lessons, the 
aspirant to the position of a full-fledged Thug was finally put 
to work. This was at first confined to menial duties and the 
perpetration of minor crimes. Such assistants were invaluable 
to the real operators of the band, as they could more readily 
gather information than adults, and at the same time divert 
suspicion from the real purposes of the band. 

The inhabitants of the East have always been noted for 
their plausible speech and insinuating manners, but among 
them all none have excelled the Thugs in these regards. 


274 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Polite and affable to all with whom they came in contact, they 
were especially attentive and obsequious to those whom they 
had marked for robbery and murder, Although they were 
possessed of no end of resources, their method of procedure, 
where murder was to be committed, was usually substantially 
the same. The first step was for the leaders of any particular 
party to ingratiate themselves into the confidence of the unfor¬ 
tunate traveler, from whom they cunningly elicited informa¬ 
tion as to the place of his residence, his point of destination, 
the purpose for which his journey had been undertaken, and 
what property, if any, he carried with him. Sometimes the 
assassins would propose to travel with their intended victim, 
saying that mutual protection against Thugs rendered such a 
step desirable for all alike. Often some other specious pretext 
was given as an excuse. More frequently, however, they fol¬ 
lowed him at a little distance, until a favorable opportunity 
presented itself for a murderous attack. 

The work of the assassin is, in itself, proof of a lack of 
personal courage; a murderer stabs a man in the back because 
he is a physical coward, and fears to meet him face to face. 
To this rule the Thugs formed no exception. Not only 
would they wait for days to take a proposed victim at a dis¬ 
advantage, but they never encountered him single-handed. 
At least two Thugs were always detailed to make an attack 
upon a single man, and where a party was to be assailed the 
assassins always presented themselves in sufficient numbers to 
render resistance unavailing. The Thug who, alone and 
unsupported, could drag an unsuspecting rider from his saddle 
and take his life, was, in the estimation of his fellows, covered 
with glory, and the occurrence was handed down by his 
posterity as a mark of high honor. 

The usual method of practicing thuggee was as follows: The 
selected victim was, without previous warning, suddenly sur¬ 
rounded by an ample force of Thugs who had, perhaps, fol¬ 
lowed him for days, awaiting this opportunity, one of whom 
threw a rope or cloth across his neck, one end being retained, 
while the other was seized by a confederate. The two ends 
were then crossed and drawn taut, and death from strangu- 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


275 


lation usually resulted speedily. Simple and effective as this 
method would seem to be, the extreme prudence of the Thug 
often deterred him from adopting it. A third confederate 
was often at hand, whose business it was to seize the strug¬ 
gling man, throw him to the ground, supplement the action of 
the deadly cord with a series of brutal kicks and blows which 
speedily deprived the wretched victim of life. 

Sometimes another method was adopted. One Thug would 
station himself in front of the unsuspecting traveler, another 
would follow behind, while a third would walk by the side of 
the rider and engage him in conversation. At an opportune 
moment the assassin beside the stirrup would drag the victim 
from his saddle while the one in front turned and seized him. 
Before he could rise or exert whatever strength he possessed, 
the third murderer would pass a rope round his neck and the 
work would be speedily accomplished. Whichever method 
was adopted, the Thugs always proceeded with the greatest 
possible caution, and often had a reserve force ambushed 
within easy call to guard against the possibility of a surprise 
by other parties. 

In lieu of a rope or cord, as the instrument of strangula¬ 
tion, a ribbon or sash was often employed. Many Thugs seem 
to have preferred this implement of death, for the reason that 
they could be openly worn about the person without exciting 
suspicion. As to the exact method of using this seemingly 
harmless, but none the less fearful, weapon, a few lines from 
the report of a commission appointed by the English govern¬ 
ment will prove of interest: 

“When a waist cloth or sash is used, it is previously 
doubled to the length of two feet, or two feet and a half; a 
knot is formed at the doubled extremity, and a slip-knot tied 
about eighteen inches from it. In regulating the distance of 
the two knots, so that the intervening space, when the scarf is 
tightly twisted, may be adapted to embrace the neck, the 
Thug who prepares the instrument ties it upon his own knee. 
The two knots give a firm hold of the cloth, and prevent its 
slipping through the hands in the act of applying it. After 
the person attacked has been brought to the ground, the slip- 


276 MURDER IN ALL AGES 

knot is loosed by the Thug who has hold of that part of the 
cloth; and he makes another fold of it around the neck; and 
placing his foot upon it he draws the cloth tight, in a manner 
similar to that—to use the expression of a Thug informer—‘of 
packing a bundle of straw’.” 

In thuggee the disposition of the-body was as important a 
matter as the act of murder, and was attended to with equal 
care and method, substantially uniform in all cases. White is 
the emblem of mourning in India, and their first act, after 
making sure of the booty, was to cover the body with a white 
cloth, carried with them for that purpose. Two of the band 
were usually left in attendance. These raised their voices in 
a mournful chant for the dead, as was the custom of the 
country. The East Indians grade sorrow by the amount of 
noise produced over the remains of the departed, and the two 
mourning Thugs always howled in a manner that at once 
disarmed all suspicion. When any one approached and began 
inquiries about the deceased, the grief of the Thugs became so 
great as to render explanation impossible. If forced to speak, 
they were not wanting in reasons and excuses. The deceased 
had been a member of a party of travelers with whom they 
had been associated, and, of course, they were remaining as a 
religious guard over the remains of the unfortunate man. 
How had he been killed? Really, they did not know. The 
fact that he was dead was enough to arouse their grief, and 
the manifestations of their sorrow were loud enough to awake 
the echoes on all of the surrounding valleys. In order to 
conform with the East Indian custom and still further to dis¬ 
arm suspicion, one of the watching Thugs would, from time 
to time, fall down upon the ground and writhe as if in pain 
induced by the recollection of the virtues of the late departed. 
Not infrequently such a band of thieves appealed to the 
charity of a traveler by pretending that they did not have 
sufficient money among the whole party to pay for the burial 
of one of their number. When this ruse could be successfully 
worked, of course the receipts of the gang of assassins were 
enriched by j ust so much. 

The Thugs always selected a sequestered place for their 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


277 


murders, and usually a location convenient to a running 
stream. The reason for this last peculiarity has never been 
satisfactorily explained, for the rule of burial observed by 
them required that the body of a victim be interred in the 
ground and covered to a depth of at least two feet, though 
their graves were usually dug to a depth of from three to four 
feet. Bodies were invariably buried face downward. The 
impulse to take human life, cultivated in these wretches from 
their childhood, was frequently not satisfied with simple mur¬ 
der. They were accustomed to mutilate the bodies of their 
victims in a most outrageous and fiendish manner. Long and 
deep gashes were often cut in various portions of the body, 
which was then distorted into grotesque and abnormal shapes. 
This was, no doubt, a quasi-religious ceremony, and a partic¬ 
ular Thug was selected for the horrid duty. This office was 
regarded as decidedly honorable. But burial was not abso¬ 
lutely indispensable. Where, for fear of discovery or other 
causes, it was not safe or convenient, the body of the victim 
was placed in a sack, carried away from the scene of the 
tragedy and thrown into a well. The district of Oude is irri¬ 
gated by water drawn from wells, and, in the palmy days of 
the Thugs, the finding of a dead body in a well excited little 
interest and led to no inquiry, so frequent were these grue¬ 
some discoveries. In districts where there were few wells, 
such as Behar and Bengal, the rivers were, in cases of neces¬ 
sity, utilized as places for the convenient disposition of bodies. 
Sometimes the place of interment was concealed from the view 
of passers-by by erecting a tent over the place, so long as the 
band desired to remain in the neighborhood. 

Although very methodical in their homicides, the Thugs 
never allowed a victim who had evaded stangulation to escape 
with his life. When such an exigency arose, the traveler was at 
once set upon by other members of the band, ensconced in some 
convenient ambush for that very contingency. A large num¬ 
ber of wounds were inflicted upon him, and his head speedily 
severed from his body. Instances are exceedingly rare 
where a victim, marked for death, has ever escaped to 
recount his terrible adventures. When such an instance 


278 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


occurred, or when, from other reasons, they were apprehensive 
of arrest, the band would disperse and disappear from view as 
if swallowed up by the ground, only to reassemble at some 
prearranged rendezvous, remote from the scene of the 
trouble. 

Diabolical as were the practices of these monsters, they 
were far from considering their murderous calling as at all 
dishonorable, but actually regarded it as a mark of the highest 
distinction. Although living entirely without the pale of the 
law and fhe usages of the people, they were not without some 
recognized rules of life. Marriage, as solemnized according 
to the different religious faiths of India, was practically 
unknown to them. As already stated, the children born to 
the Thugs were raised in the worship of Kalee, and trained to 
become active members of the band. The Thugs belonged to 
one of the numerous castes of India, and, so far as possible, 
restricted their numbers to that caste only. Sometimes they 
replenished their ranks from outside sources, but in this the 
greatest caution was observed, and no such member was 
admitted who had not attained his majority. Each gang had 
its Jemadar, or leader; its Gru, or teacher; its Sothas, or 
entrappers; its Bhuttotes, or stranglers, and its Lughaees, or 
grave-diggers. 

Among the devotees of thuggee, rank and something like 
aristocracy existed, and these were based upon ideas not 
essentially different from those prevailing among Europeans. 
They recognized an aristocracy of birth. After this was 
ranked services that had been rendered to the order, the num¬ 
ber of murders committed being the basis for calculating 
merit. Capacity was also of great weight, and was always 
established by some definite and positive proof. A noted 
Thug was asked by one of the Royal Commission how he had 
managed to attain the rank and dignity of Jemadar, or leader. 
He explained that any Thug could accomplish that who pos¬ 
sessed reasonable ability and the means to provide for the 
sustenance of a band for two or three months. He said fur¬ 
ther that men remarkable for physical strength sometimes 
attained the distinction on that account, and that it was fre- 



THE THUGS OF INDIA 


279 


qnently conferred upon those who could show descent from a 
line of Thugs. It thus appears that the same three elements 
that have made rulers in all ages and among all nations, were 
recognized by these organized assassins: hereditary succes¬ 
sion, wealth and native ability. To acquire the title of Subah- 
dar, or captain, an office superior to that of Jemadar, and 
which was not always filled, greater merit and distinction 
were required. To reach this eminence, one must possess all 
three of the qualifications, viz., wealth, genius and high 
descent. Thus something of politics was not unknown to the 
sanguinary Thugs. 

The Thugs had a dialect distinctly their own and likewise a 
system of cabalistic signs, well understood by all members of 
the infamous order, and absolutely unknown to all others. A 
few of these secret methods were discovered by a British com¬ 
mission. 

Caution was suggested b)^ drawing the back of the hand 
outward from the throat along the chin. When any cause for 
alarm existed, the open hand was passed over the mouth and 
drawn slowly downward. Should one party of Thugs desire 
the assistance of another, for instance, in the burial of the 
dead, the wish was indicated by certain marks made in the 
dust of the road. Any direction taken along the highway was 
indicated by drawing the naked feet through the dirt. Should 
assistance be desired quickly, the dust was piled up at the end 
of a line made by foot-marks, or by a hole dug in the road 
with the heel. Should the roads be in such a condition that 
there was no dust available, stones were brought into requisi¬ 
tion, and the same signs indicated by their use. 

There seems to have been no well-settled rule for the 
division of their ill-gotten plunder. According to one account, 
a portion of it was usually appropriated to defraying the 
expenses of religious ceremonies; and sometimes a part was 
also allotted for the benefit of widows and families of deceased 
members of the gang. The residue of the booty, being 
divided into several parts, was generally shared as follows: 
To the leader, two shares; to the men actually concerned in 
perpetrating the murder, and to the person who mutilated the 


280 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


dead body, each one share and a half; and to the remainder of 
the gang, each one share. 

Both as a religious, or, more properly, superstitious creed, 
and as a means of acquiring wealth, thuggee was practiced 
upon the water as well as upon the land. Although the 
methods employed were necessarily different in many regards, 
the controlling principle of action was the same in both 
instances; duplicity and fraud were always the law and the 
gospel of the Thug. The most plausible and the most cruel 
and treacherous of mankind—this is the epitome of the Thugs, 
and this characterized them, wherever found. 

In a subsequent volume, the author proposes to present 
something like a history of piracy, of the dark and cruel deeds 
and reckless daring of buccaneers of all ages and nations. 
Pirates are the marine “soldiers of fortune.” They rob and 
kill, but they do it under an ensign that proclaims their dark 
character to all upon the high seas. More than that, they 
engage in open fight, and risk their own lives in the hope of 
taking others and securing coveted plunder. The Thugs who 
operated upon the rivers of India were pirates, in that they 
killed and robbed, but in no other regard. To designate them 
by that name would be to cast a slur upon Kydd and Morgan. 
This may seem an exaggeration, but we must remember that 
there are gradations in crime as well as in virtue, and that 
some human monsters have lived who have not only disgraced 
mankind, but appear to have out-deviled the devil. 

At one time the principal rivers of India fairly swarmed 
with thieves and assassins. Like land Thugs, they usually 
operated in large parties, to the end that surprises might be 
avoided and no possible chance be given the victims they had 
marked for slaughter. These parties were divided, after the 
manner of an army, into small bands, each charged with the 
performance of a special task. It will be seen that this “busi¬ 
ness” was quite complicated and involved the investment of 
considerable capital. As a first requirement, a large number 
of boats, properly equipped and manned with a sufficient 
number of Thugs, was indispensable. One division of the 
party were allotted comparatively innocent tasks. These 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


28r 


were dressed in the conventional garb of boatmen who per¬ 
formed the ordinary duties of men of their class. Another 
detachment consisted of apparent patrons of the boat and 
passed as respectable travelers. The boats operated by the 
Thugs came in free competition with those of honest boatmen. 
They were kept scrupulously clean, and in no regard suffered 
by comparison with those of others. The well-dressed false 
patrons of the boats were either traveling on important busi¬ 
ness, or, more frequently, either on a pilgrimage to some 
sacred shrine, or returning from the performance of such a 
religious duty. 

The Sothas constituted one of the most important divisions 
of the band. To them was intrusted the task of finding out 
wealthy travelers and inducing them to travel by water, if; 
they had decided to make a journey on land, and, as a matter 
of course, to take passage in some particular boat. These; 
men were the real “fine-workers” of the enterprise, and could 
have given most valuable points to the “confidence men” who- 
infest our modern cities. Having somehow struck up a casual 
acquaintance with the selected victim, they adroitly learned' 
in what direction he was traveling, his business, the amount of 
money or valuables he had with him, and all the information 
that might prove of value. This done, they suggested that, 
they were going to the same place and usually succeeded in 
inducing their companion to accompany them; in which event, 
he was taken to the wharf where, seemingly by pure coinci¬ 
dence, a fine boat was about to start, either up or down the: 
river, as the Sothas, or entrappers, indicated by their cabal¬ 
istic signs. 

It may appear strange that these wretches could succeed in 
deluding men of intelligence and experience, at a time when 
mysterious disappearances of travelers were extremely com¬ 
mon. It must be remembered that the Thugs were a most 
secret society of whose operations little was actually known 
and whose very existence, was doubted, and even scoffed at, 
by many. It is safe to say that we know vastly- more of 
thuggee than did well-informed people of India a century ago. 
The discovery of a dead \jqdy in a well or the disappearance of. 


282 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


a wealthy traveler was set down usually to the score of mur¬ 
der, it is true, but not to the operation of an organized band. 
Besides, the entrappers were exceedingly subtle and adroit. 
Trained from childhood in the art of deception, which they 
regarded as one of the highest functions of religion, these men 
had no end of expedients, and could readily adapt themselves 
to any conditions that might arise, and were thus more than a 
match for those they were likely to encounter. 

When a Sotha and his victim presented themselves at the 
boat, they were invariably told that passage could not be 
secured. We generally yearn after the unattainable and will 
struggle for that which is withheld, and in doing so lose sight 
of its real nature. Under the entreaties of the Sotha, to which 
were frequently added those of his dupe, the captain of the 
boat would reluctantly yield, the passengers would come on 
board, and the voyage begin. No sooner had the boat reached 
a position secure from observation than the well-dressed trav¬ 
elers came forward, and began singing and playing upon 
various musical instruments and raising a terrible din, under 
cover of which the uususpecting traveler, or travelers—for 
often several victims had been secured—were strangled, their 
rifled bodies being thrown into the river, where they were 
free to sink or swim, so far as the assassins cared; for floating 
dead bodies attracted little curiosity or sympathy, and, viewed 
through the fatalistic eyes of the Hindoo, had met the fate 
provided by him from the beginning. This “business” dis¬ 
patched and the booty either divided or given to the proper 
agent to dispose of, the boat would make for another village, 
where fresh victims might well be in waiting to take a passage 
for their last earthly voyage. 

Taken for all in all, the Thugs were the most successful 
and by far the best organized of all the thieves and murder¬ 
ers that have ever banded together for purposes of crime. 
Over all other efforts at banded villainy, thuggee possessed 
this one decided advantage; superstition was so adroitly 
blended with cupidity as to render the two practically insepar¬ 
able. The love of money is one of the strongest passions that 
controls and very frequently debases human nature, and, 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


283 


when skilfully mingled with religious fanaticism, or something 
that stands for it, and takes its place, produces a compound 
that succeeds where either alone would fail, besides reducing 
to an absolute minimum the chances of detection, by sealing 
the mouths of all concerned in the revolting trade. 

The exact origin of this religio-murder society is lost in 
antiquity, its secrets having been usually well kept. Compar¬ 
atively recent investigations have, however, thrown a good 
deal of light upon the subject, and the professed theories of 
the organization are now fairly well understood. The Thugs 
always claimed that the promptings of religion, not the pas¬ 
sion of avarice, were the causes of their peculiar and murder¬ 
ous practices. That all Thugs were sincere in this profession 
is, of course, absurd, yet it seems clear that the great body of 
them actually believed that murder was an exercise of reli¬ 
gion. We here find the homicidal impulse elevated to a fore¬ 
most place among the motives and passions that influence and 
control mankind. From childhood it was developed and edu¬ 
cated, mingled with the proper proportion of cupidity and 
solidified into the cornerstone of a most malignant supersti¬ 
tion. In a preceding chapter it was pointed out that the 
impulse to take life is constantly subdued among Christian 
people, in consequence of which, most of them are not con¬ 
scious that such a disposition lurks somewhere within their 
hearts. We now see what results from a reverse of this 
method; how the encouragement and development of the 
homicidal impulse makes men professional murderers, who not 
only gloat over their dark deeds, but justify and exalt them as 
necessary parts of what they regard as genuine religion. 

In a certain sense, the faith and practices of thuggee are 
similar to that practiced by Raoul Croc, alias Gottlieb Rin- 
halter, whose rather remarkable efforts to carry into practical 
operation the theories and suggestions of Malthus, are 
recounted in a preceding chapter. Kalee, the patron goddess 
of the Thugs, and the wife of the god Siva, was the deity of 
destruction, as,Croc was its apostle. In the name of this god¬ 
dess the Thugs exercised their profession, and to her they 
ascribe its origin. Although, as already remarked, Kalee long 


284 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


ago ceased to aid her votaries in disposing of their victims, she 
did not, according to the belief of the Thugs, refuse them 
assistance. The legend, believed by all orthodox Thugs, is 
that Kalee at one time determined to rid the world of its 
abominations, and proposed to do this through the process of 
murder. Her typical gifts to her votaries were one of her 
teeth, to be used as a pickaxe for digging graves; a rib, for a 
knife, and a portion of one of her undergarments from which 
to make a noose to be used as an instrument of strangulation. 
This legend explains the extreme veneration of the Thugs for 
the pickaxe. The manufacture of this instrument was super¬ 
intended with the greatest care. When completed it was not 
ready for use in digging the graves of people whose lives had 
been sacrificed to the goddess, until it had been consecrated to 
her service by appropriate ceremonies. One part of these 
exercises consisted in breaking a cocoanut with the instru¬ 
ment, after which the entire band prostrated themselves and 
offered up what passed with them as a religious worship. 

The keeper of the Great Seal of England is not selected 
with more care than was employed in securing a proper cus¬ 
todian ’for the consecrated pickaxe of a band of Thugs. The 
person chosen was thus honored because he was supposed to 
possess certain traits of character, among them being shrewd¬ 
ness, courage and sobriety. While on a journey, the sacred 
tool remained in his exclusive custody, but when the band 
went into camp it was always deposited in the earth, where it 
was supposed to remain under the special protection of the 
goddess. The point was invariably turned toward the direc¬ 
tion in which the party proposed to proceed; these wretches 
cherishing absolute confidence that should Kalee consider 
another course preferable, the point would be found, when the 
utensil was dug up, to have veered about so as to indicate the 
divine will. It is said that sometimes Thugs, while halting for 
rest, were accustomed to throw the axe into a well; and a 
received superstition was that when wanted it would arise of 
itself, if summoned in proper form. 

There was no more sacred spot on earth than that wherein 
the consecrated pickaxe was buried, The ground covering it 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


285 

must not be stepped upon, and an unclean animal must on no 
account be permitted to approach it. After having been used 
in digging a grave it was thoroughly purified by washing on 
each occasion. Should the sacred implement fall from the 
hand of the man to whose care it was intrusted, dismay and 
consternation seized the entire band. Such an accident was 
regarded as an omen of some terrible evil about to befall 
either the individual himself, or the whole company. It 
might indicate the death of the man whose sacrilegious care¬ 
lessness had permitted such an occurrence, or it might be an 
indication that some dire reverse was to overtake the fortunes 
of the assassins. The unlucky custodian was at once deprived 
of his high office, and the pickaxe was invariably consecrated 
anew. An oath taken upon it was considered the most solemn 
obligation known to these murderers, if, indeed, it were not 
the only one which could be said really to bind their con¬ 
science, if conscience they had. In fact, so great was the 
veneration of the Thugs for this instrument, divinely 
appointed to be used in their villainous pursuits, that in com¬ 
parison it might almost be said that the sacred water of the 
Ganges was impure to the Hindoos and the Koran a blasphe¬ 
mous book to the Mohammedans. 

During the course of the investigation set on foot by the 
English government into the particulars and practices of the 
Thugs a witness said, in answer to a question put to him by a 
British officer touching the pickaxe: “Did we not worship it 
every seventh day? Is it not our standard? Is its sound ever 
heard when digging graves by any one but a Thug? Can any 
man ever swear to a falsehood upon it?” Another Thug, 
speaking upon the same subject during the progress of the 
same investigation, said: “How can we dig graves with any 
other instrument? This is the one appointed by Kalee and 
consecrated, and we should never have survived an attempt to 
use any other. No man but a Thug who has been a Strangler, 
and is remarkable for his cleanliness and decorum, is per¬ 
mitted to carry it. ’ ’ 

As already indicated, the Thugs paid a great deal of atten¬ 
tion to the education of their children, who from birth were 


286 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


consecrated to the worship and service of Kalee. The women, 
though taking no active part in murder, were fully as 
depraved as their male associates, a mother’s greatest ambition 
being that her child might rise to a high position in the order. 
Deceit being the foundation of all their practices, they began 
by imposing it upon their children, who were not at once initi¬ 
ated into the awful crimes perpetrated by their elders. They 
were kept ignorant as to murder for some years. In the 
meantime their cupidity was excited and developed by giving 
them portions of the spoils taken from victims. The source of 
the supplies was not made known to the infants, who, how¬ 
ever, gradually began to understand the real business of the 
band. In this way, theft and murder, so far from being 
revolting, became decidedly attractive to the youthful Thugs; 
indeed, crime came to be a part of their very nature. Associ¬ 
ated as they were with mysterious rites and superstitions, 
these children may be said to have literally inherited the 
passion for murder. 

A system so diametrically opposed to that taught by 
Christians and absorbed by the little ones at their mother’s 
knees, can hardly be conceived of as recently existing in full 
force, and still remaining in some parts of India; yet the 
authority for the statements we have made is unquestioned. 

The position of Bhuttote, or strangler, one of the most 
important in the entire organization, was not easy of attain¬ 
ment, and an applicant must have been a novitiate for some 
time, before he could aspire to the high honor. If any repug¬ 
nance to murder had survived the teaching of his childhood it 
must, first of all, be absolutely overcome. This accomplished, 
he applied to the Guru, or teacher, of the band. This word 
seems to be derived from “gur,” a kind of coarse sugar used 
in initiatory ceremonies by which the teacher was conse¬ 
crated. The Guru, satisfied that the applicant was a fit sub¬ 
ject for advancement, at once proceeded to instruct him in the 
science of strangulation. This meant a long course of pre¬ 
paratory study and practice. His first duties were those of a 
scout, then he was advanced to the position of grave-digger 
and then a holder of limbs. 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


287 


The applicant being previously prepared for the high dignity, 
a victim was selected for his first effort. Care was exercised 
to obtain one easy to dispatch, by reason of age or weakness; 
furthermore, the time was so arranged that he could be 
attacked immediately after being aroused from a sound sleep, 
and was, in consequence, somewhat bewildered. 

Before proceeding to the commission of the assassination, 
the goddess was invoked to give an auspicious sign, and 
should it be concluded that this supplication had met with a 
favorable response, the murderers, in almost satanic glee, 
repaired to the place where the selected victim, all unconscious 
of danger, was soon to meet a horrible and unlooked-for 
death. The Guru, facing toward the west, next tied a knot in 
one corner of a handkerchief, in which he enclosed a rupee. 
This knot was always of a peculiar description, and the priv¬ 
ilege of tying it was confined to those who had been regularly 
initiated into the order of Stranglers; in fact, the ability to tie 
such a knot was regarded as an indubitable mark of regular 
initiation, and the handkerchief so knotted may be almost 
spoken of as the ribbon of the order to which its possessor 
belonged. 

This accomplished, the sleeping victim was aroused by the 
novice, who was expected to be absolutely pitiless and remorse¬ 
less in accomplishing his fiendish design. In this regard prob¬ 
ably no apprentice ever disgraced his Guru, for in his 
depraved estimation the act was one that introduced him into 
full membership in the most honorable society on earth. The 
act completed, the new Bhuttote paid homage to his father in 
crime, and likewise to the members of his family. After the 
first murder, Kalee was again invoked that she might indicate 
by some well understood sign or incident that the graduate in 
crime had found favor in her eyes. This seen and recog¬ 
nized, the elated assassin hastened to untie the knot tied in 
the handkerchief by the Guru and remove the rupee he had 
placed there. This coin, together with any other money the 
now full-fledged assassin possessed, was at once presented to 
the Guru, who, after reserving one rupee for gur to be used 
in a subsequent religious ceremony, expended the remainder 


288 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 

for sweetmeats, upon which the parties proceeded to regale 
themselves. 

Certain classes and castes were exempt from all danger of 
death or robbery at the hands of the Thugs. Many bands 
never took the life of a woman. A Behar Thug, being inter¬ 
rogated by a member of the Royal English Commission as to 
the practice of his gang in this respect, answered with much 
warmth: “Strangle women? Never! We would not murder 
a woman if she had a lac of rupees about her.” A member of 
the Doad association being present during the examination, 
promptly added: “Nor would the Doad Thugs if she had two 
lacs upon her.” Of the class which enjoyed the seeming 
indemnity were oil-venders, musicians, carpenters, black¬ 
smiths, dancing-masters, washwomen, poets and Ganges 
water-carriers. The exemption of the latter class was partic¬ 
ularly due to the reverence in which Thugs held the water of 
the sacred river, inasmuch as carriers were not exempt if their 
pots were empty. Fakirs were also favored in the same way, 
as were also the maimed and lepers. 

A strange illustration of the superstition governing the 
worshipers of Kalee is shown by their respect for the sacred 
cow, although in this particular they were disposed to be 
scrupulous in the observance of technicalities. Thus, if the 
sacred cow was found with the person who had been devoted 
to death, much art was sometimes employed in separating the 
victim and the animal. It is related that a party of fourteen 
persons, who had been designated for death, had in their 
possession a sacred cow. To have assassinated the proposed 
victim while in company with the cow would have been an act 
of sacrilege which even a Thug would not have attempted. 
Therefore, it became necessary to detach the cow from the 
party, after which the project might be carried to completion, 
the life of the men being considered of vastly less conse¬ 
quence than that of the cow. Accordingly, the holy animal 
was bought, the purchasers pretending that they had vowed to 
present such an offering at one of the temples in Singapore; 
and, as a matter of fact, so great was the superstition of these 
villains, they did actually present the animal at the shrine 


THE THUGS OF INDIA 


289 


named before entering upon the commission of the crime. 
The obstacle having been thus removed, all of the unsuspect¬ 
ing travelers were strangled by the assassins within three 
hours from the performance of this act of religious worship, 
and the purchase money paid for the cow recovered with the 
booty. 

While the superstitions of the Thugs are all of Hindoo 
origin, they have largely been adopted by the Mohammedans, 
who, without abating one jot of their devotion to the Koran, 
still pay divine honors to the Hindoo goddess of destruction. 
To explain away the seeming inconsistency of this course, 
they often set up the claim that Kalee is really identified with 
Fatima, the daughter of Mohammed, and wife of Ali. They 
say that Fatima invented the use of the noose to strangle the 
great demon, Rukutbeijdana. Among the Mohammedans, 
the order of Thugs never existed, but something of the same 
kind may be found in the “Assassins,” treated of in the pre¬ 
ceding chapter. 

Although this most diabolical society had practically been 
broken up in India, its influence is still felt in that vast 
country, where assassinations are alarmingly frequent and 
human life is held at a very low price. Long years were 
required to develop thuggee to its full power, and, probably, 
a corresponding time must elapse before the homicidal impulse 
is subdued among the descendants of those who so skilfully 
and cruelly threw and tightened the fatal noose made from the 
hem of Kalee’s garment. 


CHAPTER XVII 


SECRET POISONERS 

Poisoning, as a means of taking human life, has been 
practiced from the earliest ages. The Greek and Roman 
writers mention several well authenticated instances, and 
numerous others resting upon somewhat doubtful evidence. 
It was not until the seventeenth century, however, that this 
most atrocious practice became of frequent occurrence. From 
this time it rapidly increased, and spread over the whole of 
Western Europe like a veritable epidemic. In fact, it came 
in time to be elevated into a regular branch of education 
among nearly all who professed or aspired to a knowledge of 
chemistry, magic or astrology. Many of these persons rose to 
a somewhat doubtful distinction through their ability to pre¬ 
pare poisons so slow and insidious in their action as to defy the* 
best medical skill of the time to detect. So great was the 
demand for these as a means, of “removing” enemies, but 
more particularly friends, who stood in the way of a fortune 
or a title, that these vile concocters and distillers of poisons 
capable of producing death so like the ordinary decay of nature 
as to arouse no suspicion, amassed vast sums of money from 
their sales, and in some instances are said to have sold, at 
immense figures, the secret of preparing their drugs. 

While the preparation of poisons was most practiced in 
France and Italy, where the processes came to be looked upon 
as an art, it was by no means confined to those countries, but 
spread all over Europe. Shakespeare represents the King of 
Denmark, the father of Prince Hamlet, as being assassinated 
by a subtle and powerful poison poured into his ears, and in 
his great play of Macbeth describes a witch’s kitchen where 
poison was in the process of manufacture from the most 

290 


SECRET POISONERS 


29I 


detestable materials. In England, during the reign of Henry 
VIII-, an act was passed ordering the employment of secret 
poisoning an act of high treason. Of prominent instances 
of poisoning in English history, may be mentioned the mur¬ 
der of Sir Thomas Overbury, by Viscount Rochester and his 
wife. It was currently believed that James I., who died 
March 27, 1625, was poisoned by Villiers, Duke of Bucking¬ 
ham. So strong was this conviction among the people that 
one Dr. Lamb, a quack and conjurer, who was believed to 
have supplied Buckingham with the poison, was seized by the 
angry populace in Cheapside, London, and beaten and stoned 
to death. 

It is recorded that shortly after the beginning of the Chris¬ 
tian era—A. D. 26—Agrippina, afterwards Empress of Rome, 
refused to taste fruit offered her by her husband’s father, the 
Emperor Tiberius, while she was sitting at his table. This 
briefly, but aptly, illustrates the extent to which this diabolical 
“art” was carried, even in that remote age. At this time 
flourished the infamous Locusta, known as a most skilful com¬ 
pounder of poisons, who is said to have supplied Agrippina 
with material for taking the lives of those who stood in the 
path of her inordinate and wicked ambitions. For infamy this 
woman will compare with the most detestable of her sex. On 
her second widowhood, she induced the Emperor Claudius, 
her own uncle, to marry her, and espoused his daughter to 
her son Nero, himself one of the most depraved of mankind. 
In order to bring Nero to the throne she ruined many noble 
families, and finally poisoned her husband, Claudius. 

Britannicus, the step-brother of Nero, and rightful heir to 
the throne, had been excluded through the intriguing of 
Agrippina, and, after a time, Nero decided to put him to 
death, Locusta, it is said, supplying the necessary poison for 
the purpose. The habit of drinking hot water, much affected 
in our own times as a remedial agent, was very common in the 
times of the Romans. Britannicus was poisoned at a royal 
banquet. A slave brought water to him, as was the custom, 
but he refused to drink it, declaring that it was too hot. This 
seems to have been prearranged, for in the cold water that 


292 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Britannicus himself ordered to cool the draught, was contained 
the poison of Locusta. No sooner had he partaken of the hot 
water thus cooled than he lost his voice and the power of 
respiration. Sitting at an adjoining table were Nero, the 
emperor, together with Agrippina, his mother, and Octavia, 
his wife. The two women expressed emotions of horror and 
fright; Nero alone, the originator of the crime, looked on, his 
cold, glassy eyes unmoved and his brutal heart untouched. 
After a few moments of agony, Britannicus, a youth of four¬ 
teen, said to be of an amiable character, and possessed of 
attractive manners, expired. His body was removed and the 
feast went on. The remains of the murdered boy were buried 
with pomp, the secret of his death being known to none but 
the emperor and the slave whom he had either commanded or 
hired to bring about the fatal catastrophe. 

In this connection it is worth while to state that post¬ 
mortem examinations were, early in the history of the church, 
regarded almost in the light of sacrilege. Not until the fif¬ 
teenth century did the Pope authorize the dissection and 
examination of the bodies of the dead, and even then anatomy 
and pathology were in their infancy. The first great anato¬ 
mist, Vessalius, did not flourish until one hundred years later. 

The life of the infamous Agrippina terminated in a manner 
well befitting her evil career; she was put to death by her son, 
Nero, in the year 60. Nero is said to have himself experi¬ 
mented in the preparation of poisons, and to have tried their 
effects upon slaves and felons, much after the manner that 
scientific men of the present day test any recent discovery or 
experiment on a cat or dog. 

The composition and mode of preparing some of the most 
famous, or rather infamous, of the “slow poisons,” are toler¬ 
ably well understood, but their publication, in a work like the 
present volume, could conserve no good end and might lead 
to much harm, since an evil desire in the heart of some people 
becomes overpowering the moment a method of carrying into 
effect in a manner calculated to avoid suspicion, is suggested. 

Among the ancient Greeks and Romans, the preparation 
and use of poisons for taking human life were well under- 


SECRET POISONERS 


2 93 


stood. The former frequently executed condemned persons 
by forcing them to take poison. The instance of the great 
philosopher, Socrates, who was compelled to drink a decoction 
of the poisonous hemlock, and who died from its effects, will 
be remembered by all. The suicide of the famous Greek 
orator, Demosthenes, and of the Carthaginian general, Hanni¬ 
bal, by means of poison, will also be recalled. 

The name “Borgia” has come to be regarded as almost 
synonymous with the word poisoner. While many of the 
members of the infamous family certainly deserve all the 
odium that can be heaped upon them, and may well be classed 
among the most debased and cruel of mankind, it does not 
appear that their practices differed essentially from those of 
many of their neighbors, except that they entered into the 
business in a more wholesale way. The Borgias were orig¬ 
inally Spanish, but rose to great prominence in Italy after 
Alfonso Borgia was made Pope, as Calixtus III., in 1455. 
Roderigo Borgia ascended the papal throne, having corruptly 
and unblushingly purchased his election thereto, in August, 
1492, under the religious name of Alexander VI., and proved 
a disgrace to the Church. One of the first acts of this Pope 
was the elevation to the rank of Archbishop of his son, Cesare 
Borgia, one of several children born to him by a famous 
Roman woman named Vanozza. This Cesare was one of the 
most infamous wretches that ever lived. He seems to have 
given himself entirely up to debauchery, while his cruel dispo¬ 
sition and strong impulse to take life, made him a “profes¬ 
sional assassin.” It is recorded of him that, accompanied by 
young men as depraved and reckless as himself—if such a 
thing were possible—he used to traverse the streets of Rome 
at night, killing citizens for the one purpose of gratifying his 
lust for blood. He caused his brother, Giovanna, who had 
been advanced by his -father, the Pope, to be assassinated. 
Cesare was an accomplished poisoner, though his wicked heart 
usually led him to employ the poniard or the sword. He was 
of powerful build, and one of the handsomest men in Rome. 

The wicked Roderigo Borgia, Pope Alexander VI., was, 
like Shakespeare’s engineer, “hoist with his own petard”—in 


294 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


other words, he fell a victim to poison that he had caused to 
be prepared to bring about the death of others. In 1503, in 
the seventy-third year of his life, and the eleventh of his 
pontificate, he planned, in conjunction with his son Cesare, 
the death of a large number of cardinals. His exact motives 
can hardly be pointed out at this day, though it is probable 
that the intended victims had demurred at the wholesale course 
of crime adopted by the Pope and his son. Alexander had 
bidden a large number of guests to attend a sumptuous ban¬ 
quet at which wine, as was the universal custom in those days, 
furnished a large portion of the entertainment. Certain 
decanters of wine had been carefully poisoned, probably by 
Cesare, and a wholesale murder was impending. It happened, 
however, whether through carelessness on the part of the 
Borgias, or design on that of the servants, that the infamous 
father and son partook of the wine in the poisoned decanters. 
By a singular anomaly in one so utterly depraved as Cesare 
Borgia, he was little addicted to the use of wine, always 
drinking it with greatest moderation. This habit, peculiar in 
any Italian of that day, was the means of saving his life. He 
suffered from the effect of the poisonous draught, but speedily 
recovered. The Pope, on the contrary, was much addicted to 
the use of wine, often drinking to great excess, and before he 
began to suffer from the effects of the poison, had imbibed so 
freely that it was found impossible to save his worse than use¬ 
less life. 

The career of this man and his son shows the depths to 
which men endowed with every high faculty incident to human 
nature, yet lacking purity and kindness of heart, may descend. 
With the possible exceptions of Nero, Caligula and Commodus, 
no more depraved wretch than Alexander VI. ever sat upon a 
throne. Not only did he disgrace the Church, but cast a dark 
blot upon the very name of humanity. 

Lucretia Borgia, sister of Cesare, was a woman of remark¬ 
able beauty, and foul as she was fair. She led a wicked and 
licentious life, and is said to have been one of the greatest 
poisoners of the “age of poison” in which she flourished. She 
was three times married, her second husband, Alfonso, Duke 


SECRET POISONERS 


295 


of Biscaglia, being assassinated by her brother Cesare in 1501. 
To detail the life of this wicked woman would be but to 
multiply hideous instances of crime. Like her brother, 
Cesare, she liberally patronized learning and the arts, for 
which reason, she did not lack able defenders, who glossed 
over many of her wicked acts. 

To show how poisoning was regarded in that age, a case 
instanced in the Memoirs of Henry II., fifth Duke of Guise, 
may be mentioned, of a certain soldier who was requested to 
rid him of Gennaro Annese, one of his chief opponents in 
Naples. The means proposed to the soldier was the poniard, 
from which he shrank with every indication of genuine horror; 
at the same time, he calmly announced that he was entirely 
willing to poison Annese. 

About the middle of the seventeenth century poisoning 
became so frequent and was increasing at such an alarming 
rate, that, despite the secrecy imposed upon the confessional 
by the rules of the Catholic Church, the clergy felt it their 
duty to acquaint the Pope, Alexander VII., with the fearful 
extent of the practice. On investigation it was found that 
young widows were extraordinarily abundant in Rome, and 
that most of the unhappy marriages were speedily dissolved by 
the sickness and death of the husband; and further inquiries 
resulted in the discovery of a secret society of young matrons, 
which met at the house of an old hag, by name Hieronyma La 
Spara, a reputed witch and fortune-teller, who supplied those 
of them who wished to resent the infidelities of their husbands, 
with a slow poison, clear, tasteless and limpid, and of strength 
sufficient to destroy life in the course of a day, week, month, 
or number of months, as the purchaser preferred. The ladies 
of Rome had been long acquainted with the “wonderful 
elixir” compounded by La Spara, but they kept the secret so 
well, and made such effectual use of their knowledge, that it 
was only after several years, during which a large number of 
unsuspecting victims had perished, and even then through a 
cunning artifice of the police, that the whole proceedings were 
brought to light. La Spara and thirteen of her companions 
were hanged, a large number of culprits were whipped half 


296 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


naked through the streets of Rome, and some ladies of the 
highest rank suffered fines and banishment. 

Early in the eighteenth century a similar organization was 
discovered in Naples. This was headed by a woman of 
seventy years, named Toffania. This depraved old hag 
manufactured and sold a poison said to be similar to that pro¬ 
duced by La Spara and very probably made after the same 
formula. She sold this murderous compound very extensively 
in Naples, numbering many of the nobility among her custom¬ 
ers, under the name of “Acquetta. ” She also bestowed upon 
it the name of “Manna of St. Nicola of Bari,” which was the 
name by which the so-called miraculous oil of St. Nicola, very 
popular in that day, was known. Thus disguised, she sent it 
throughout Italy, and was the means of putting hundreds of 
people to death. This poison, now best known as the “Acqua 
Tofana,” or “Acqua di Perugia,” is said by Hahnemann to 
have been compounded of arsenical neutral salts; while 
Garelli states that it was crystallized arsenic dissolved in a 
large quantity of water; but both agree that it produced its 
effect almost imperceptibly, by gradually weakening the 
appetite and respiratory organs. After having directly or 
indirectly caused the death of more than six hundred persons, 
Toffania was at length seized, tried and strangled in 1719. 
From this time the mania for secret poisoning gradually died 
away in Italy. 

The trade of poisoning, although long practiced in France, 
became what may justly be termed “epidemic” therein the 
latter half of the seventeenth century. So prevalent was this 
odious crime that any one in a position where his death might 
prove of decided advantage to others, exercised the greatest 
precaution as to every morsel of food he ate, and every drop 
of fluid he drank. At dinners and banquets, following the 
custom of the ancients, all food was brought to the table in 
covered dishes. We still follow this practice to a large extent, 
our object being to keep the food warm; but the origin of the 
fashion, or invention, was to guard against the introduction of 
poison into the dishes while being carried from the kitchen to 
the dining-room or banqueting hall. 


SECRET POISONERS 


297 


As an illustration of the awful frequency of death from this 
cause, mention may be made of an expression in a letter of 
Madame de Sevigne, written about 1680, to the effect that 
“Frenchmen” and “Poisoners” would soon become synony¬ 
mous terms. 

Perhaps the most notorious French poisoner of this time, 
the reign of Louis XIV., was Marie Marguerite Brinvilliers. 
She was the daughter of Dreux d’Aubray, Lieutenant of Paris, 
and was carefully raised and well educated. Madame de 
Sevigne, already quoted, refers to her as mild and agreeable 
in her manners, and offering no traces on her beautiful coun¬ 
tenance of the evil soul within. In 1651 she was married to 
the Marquis de Brinvilliers, a loose and dissipated character, 
with whom she lived most unhappily for some years. The 
Marquis introduced to his wife the notorious Sainte Croix, 
which introduction seems to have been the beginning of her 
downfall, which ultimately reached most appalling depths. 
Sainte Croix had been confined in an Italian prison, where he 
formed the acquaintance of a skilful compounder of poi¬ 
sons, named Exili, from whom he appears to have learned 
much of the diabolical art which he later practiced in France. 
Madame Brinvilliers’ liaisons with Sainte Croix became so 
notorious that her father, M. d’Aubray, caused him to be 
thrown into the Bastile for a whole year. While in the Bastile 
he is said to have obtained further instructions in the prepara¬ 
tions of poisons. During her lover’s confinement, this detest¬ 
able and hypocritical woman affected the greatest piety, 
visiting the hospitals and devoting all her time to acts of 
charity. 

Released from the Bastile, Sainte Croix hastened to rejoin his 
mistress, whose devotional spasm seems to have terminated 
at the same date. A dissolute spendthrift, without means 
of his own, Sainte Croix now threw himself upon Madame 
Brinvilliers, whose portion was far from sufficient to support 
his reckless extravagance. Accordingly, he set about devising 
a scheme to put himself in funds. His plan, while atrocious in 
the extreme, as viewed by men possessed of the smallest spark 
of humanity, was exceedingly simple from the standpoint of 


298 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


this scoundrel. M. d’Aubray was a man of great wealth, and 
his death, together with that of his two sons, would make 
Madame Brinvilliers the heiress to one-half of his estate. 
Such a scheme would have staggered an ordinary murderer, 
but it was a mere bagatelle to this sanguinary villain. He 
hastened to communicate his plan to his mistress, who, so far 
from manifesting any horror at the prospective death of her 
father and two brothers, accepted the suggestion with the 
utmost complacency, and agreed to aid in its consummation. 
Poisoning, as a matter of course, was the means decided upon 
for the murders. Marie entered into the plan with a gusto 
that seems astonishing, even in one so depraved. She worked 
with Sainte Croix in compounding poisons and soon became 
almost as expert as he. 

The demonstrating of the effects of the poisons was 
intrusted to Marie. She used to administer doses to dogs, 
rabbits and pigeons. Afterwards, to gain more definite 
results, she bethought herself of her hospital experience, and 
visited many of them, where she administered doses of the 
poison to the sick, to whom, with apparent charitable motives, 
she brought soup and delicacies. These experiments were 
not designed to kill the victims, but merely to give her an 
opportunity to study the first effects of the poisons. After¬ 
wards she poisoned a pigeon pie which was eaten by guests at 
her father’s table. That she might fully master the infernal 
art of slow poisoning, she procured an antidote from Sainte 
Croix and tried the effects of the poison upon herself. Satis¬ 
fied at last that exactly the right combination had been 
secured, this most unnatural woman began her operations. 
The first victim she selected was her gray-haired father, to 
whom she administered the first doses with her own hand in 
his chocolate. For eight months she continued to alternately 
kiss and poison the old man. At length her patience became 
exhausted, and, at St. Croix’s suggestion, she administered a 
fatal dose. His death was apparently the result of disease, 
and no suspicion was aroused. 

The two deeply-grieved sons of the murdered man returned 
home from one of the provinces to assist in the last sad rites 


SECRET POISONERS 


299 


of their dead parent. Neither of the murderous conspirators 
faltered in the execution of the fearful plan they had deliber¬ 
ately concocted. The arrival of the two young men was their 
doom. Sainte Croix now secured the assistance of a domestic 
servant, Juan Amelin, alias Chaussee, who assisted in admin¬ 
istering the poison. They proceeded more rapidly than they 
had in the case of the father, and within six weeks both of the 
young men were dead. 

These deaths excited some suspicion, but, owing to the 
insidious nature of the agents employed, there was nothing 
tangible upon which to base an accusation. But the work was 
not yet all accomplished; a sister of Marie remained, who was 
entitled to one-half of the estate. Sainte Croix had no idea of 
dividing the vast fortune, and at once took steps to murder 
the young lady; she seems to have become suspicious, how¬ 
ever, and saved her life by promptly quitting Paris. 

So far, the wicked woman acted at the instigation of her 
lover, but now she conceived a plot of her own, which was 
the poisoning of her husband, the Marquis Brinvilliers, from 
whom she was separated, but not divorced. Her motive in 
committing this crime was her ardent desire to marry Sainte 
Croix. But in this she appears to have made a decided mis¬ 
calculation. Now that she had sunk to his own depraved 
level, her accomplice no longer cared for the wicked woman, 
and had no intention of marrying her. He seemed to 
acquiesce in her proposal, and undertook to further her plans. 
Instead of doing this, however, he undertook to defeat her 
murderous designs. While the Marquise poisoned him one 
day, Sainte Croix administered an antidote the next. In this 
way his life was saved, though his constitution was ruined. 

But evil does not always triumph, and the day of retribu¬ 
tion was at hand; soon after the escape of the Marquis de Brin¬ 
villiers from a frightful death, Sainte Croix himself met a 
fearful end, which would seem to justify the belief in “poetic 
justice.” While working in his improvised laboratory, owing 
to the deadly fumes constantly emanating from the poisonous 
material employed, Sainte Croix was compelled to wear a 
glass mask. On this occasion his mask slipped off and he was 


300 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


overcome by the noxious vapors. The following day his corpse 
was found in a little room in an obscure street that he had 
fitted up as a laboratory. As there was nothing about his per¬ 
son to indicate his identity, his body and effects were taken 
possession of by the authorities. Among other things a small 
box was found, to which the following remarkable document 
was attached: 

“I humbly beg, that those into whose hands this box may 
fall will do me the favor to deliver it into the hands only of the 
Marchioness de Brinvilliers, who resides in the Rue Neuve St. 
Paul, as everything it contains concerns her, and belongs to 
her alone; and as besides, there is nothing in it that can be of 
use to any person but her. In case she shall be dead before 
me, it is my wish that it be burned, with everything it con¬ 
tains, without opening or altering anything. In order that no 
one may plead ignorance I swear by the God that I adore, and 
by all that is held most sacred, that I assert nothing but the 
truth; and if my intentions, just and reasonable as they are, 
be thwarted in this point by any persons, I charge their con¬ 
science with it, both in this world and that which is to come, 
in order that I may unload mine. I protest that this is my last 
will. Done at Paris, May 25, 1672. Sainte Croix.” 

This box, being opened, was found to contain several vials, 
a number of papers and a number of powders. Among the 
papers was found a promissory note of the Marquise de 
Brinvilliers, for thirty thousand francs, payable to the order of 
Sainte Croix. It also contained other papers implicating her 
and the servant, Chaussee, in the recent murders. 

Learning of the death of her accomplice, the Marquise, 
being unable to obtain possession of the box, with the contents 
of which she seems to have been familiar, hurriedly quitted 
Paris. The next morning the police were upon her track, but 
she succeeded in eluding them and in reaching England. In 
the meantime, Chaussee was not so fortunate, being an ignor¬ 
ant man and knowing nothing of the damaging evidence in the 
possession of the police, and was promptly arrested. Being 
subjected to torture, Chaussek made a full confession, impli¬ 
cating the Marquise. He was condemned and sentenced to be 
broken on the wheel, and the sentence was carried into execu¬ 
tion in March, 1673, in the city of Paris. 


SECRET POISONERS 


301 


The Marquise de Brinvilliers appears to have resided for 
some three years in England, but early in 1676, thinking that 
the rigor of the pursuit was over, and that she would be safe 
on the continent, she went secretly to Liege. But the 
authorities were on the alert, and obtained information of her 
movements. They located her in Li6ge, and sent an officer, 
Desgraise by name, to apprehend the murderess. The officer 
found that she had taken refuge within the walls of a convent, 
where the law could not reach her. Desgraise, who was a 
detective and seems to have been in advance of his age, was not 
discouraged. Disguised as a priest, he entered the convent 
and obtained an interview with the Marquise. Skilled in the 
art of flattery, he pleased her vanity and won her confidence. 
He then proceeded to make love to her, and finally succeeded 
in inducing her to promise to meet him outside the walls of the 
convent. The foolish woman came promptly to keep her 
appointment, and was at once placed under arrest. 

She was speedily brought to trial, and abundant proof of 
her guilt was produced. In addition to the dying declaration 
of Chaussee and many other incriminating matters, a paper, 
in her handwriting, that had been found among the effects of 
Sainte Croix, distinctly showed her guilt. In this she detailed 
to him the misdeeds of her life and distinctly referred to the 
murder of her father and brothers. No trial in France ever 
excited more universal interest than that of this poisoner. 
The details of her crimes were published and eagerly read by 
all classes of people. It is said that this wide publicity 
worked great harm by suggesting the idea of secret poisoning 
to many who had never before thought of such a thing. 

If her crimes had been many and atrocious, her punishment 
was surely heavy. She was found guilty in the Superior 
Criminal Court of Paris, on July 16, 1676, for the murder of 
her father and brothers. She was condemned to be drawn on 
a hurdle, with her feet bare, a rope about her neck, and a 
burning torch in her hand, to the great entrance of the 
cathedral of Notre Dame, where she was to make the amende 
honorable in sight of all the people; to be taken from thence 
to the Place de Greve, and there to be beheaded. Her body 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


3°2 

was afterwards to be burned, and her ashes scattered to the 
winds. 

Shortly before her execution she made a full confession, 
and continued reckless to the very last. Madame de Sevigne 
says that, when on the hurdle, on her way to the scaffold, she 
entreated her confessor to exert his influence with the execu¬ 
tioner to place himself next to her, that his body might hide 
from her view “that scoundrel Desgraise, who had entrapped 
her.” She also asked the ladies, who had been drawn to their 
windows to witness the procession, what they were looking at, 
adding, “A pretty sight you have come to see, truly!” She 
laughed when on the scaffold, dying as she had lived, impen¬ 
itent and heartless. 

It is said that the Marquise supplied poisons to others, and 
several people whose relatives, standing between them and 
wealth, had mysteriously died, fell under suspicion, and some 
were placed on trial. M. de Penautier, treasurer of the 
province of Languedoc, was thrown into the Bastile, where he 
was confined for some months on the charge of poisoning and 
having procured his material from Sainte Croix and de Brin- 
villiers, but was ultimately released. The Cardinal de Bonzy 
was accused of being an accomplice of Penautier, for the 
reason that several people to whom he was compelled to pay 
annuities which were charged upon his estates, suddenly and 
mysteriously died one after another. The cardinal, in talk¬ 
ing of these annuities afterwards, used to say, “Thanks to my 
star, I have outlived them all!” A wit, seeing him and 
Penautier riding in the same carriage, cried out, in allusion to 
this expression, “There go the Cardinal de Bonzy and his 
star!’ ’ 

And now poisoning became a veritable epidemic in France. 
The mania spread to almost every province and the prisons 
were filled with people accused of this detestable crime. 
Nearly every evil passion of the human heart found an outlet 
in the use of slow poison, which speedily took the place of 
almost all other means of taking human life. To check this 
rapidly growing evil, Louis XIV. instituted a special court, 
known as the “Chambre Ardente,” or Burning Chamber, with 


SECRET POISONERS 


3°3 

very extensive powers for the trial and punishment of 
poisoners. 

At this time two women made themselves especially 
notorious, and were the means of sending hundreds of people 
to their graves. They were named Lavigoreux and Lavoisin, 
and resided in Paris. They were imitators of La Spara, and 
seemed to have manufactured essentially the same poisons and 
disposed of them by similar methods. Their trade was carried 
on chiefly with women who wished a safe means to dispose of 
their husbands, though in some instances husbands bought 
their poisons to destroy their wives. These women had two 
ostensible callings; that of midwives and fortune-tellers. In 
their latter capacity they foretold to wives the speedy death of 
their husbands, and to needy relatives the approaching disso¬ 
lution of rich relatives; taking care at the same time to sell, 
at extravagant prices, the means of making their prognostica¬ 
tions “come true.” They used to predict approaching death 
by some ordinary occurrence, as the breaking of china or 
glassware, and then hire servants to bring about the predicted 
catastrophe exactly at the appointed time. Their occupation 
as midwives possessed them of many family secrets which they 
did not fail to use to dreadful advantage. 

How long these monsters had carried on their nefarious 
trade was never ascertained. Their practices were discovered 
near the end of the year 1679. They were tried, convicted, 
and, on February 22, 1680, were burned alive on the Place de 
Greve; but not until their hands had first been bored through 
with red-hot irons, and then cut off. Many of their accom¬ 
plices and patrons throughout France were arrested, tried and 
put to death by hanging and burning at the stake. Within a 
few months not less than fifty people, mostly women, are said 
to have suffered death on the charge of poisoning. 

The woman Lavoisin kept a list of the persons who fre¬ 
quented her house for the purpose of buying poisons. Upon 
her arrest, this was secured by the police, and greatly aided 
in bringing her guilty accomplices to justice. Three quite 
illustrious names were found upon this list, those of Marshal 
de Luxembourg, the Countess de Soissons and the Duchess de 


304 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Bouillon. The marshal seems only to have been guilty of a 
piece of discreditable folly in visiting a woman of this descrip¬ 
tion, but the popular voice at the time imputed to him some¬ 
thing more than folly. The author of the “Memoirs of the 
Affairs of Europe Since the Peace of Utrecht,” says: “The 
miserable gang who dealt in poison and prophesy alleged that 
he had sold himself to the devil, and that a young girl of the 
name of Dupin had been poisoned by his means. Among 
other stories they said that he had made a contract with the 
devil in order to marry his son to the daughter of the Marquis 
of Louvois. To this atrocious and absurd accusation the 
marshal, who had surrendered himself at the Bastile on the 
first accusation, replied with the mingled sentiment of pride 
and innocence: ‘When Mathieu de Montmorenci, my ancestor, 
married the widow of Louis-le-gros, he did not have recourse 
to the devil, but to the states-general, in order to obtain for 
the minor king the support of the house of Montmorenci.’ 
This brave man was imprisoned in a cell six feet and a half 
long, and his trial, which was interrupted for several weeks, 
lasted altogether fourteen months. No judgment was pro¬ 
nounced upon him.’’ 

The Countess de Soissons was accused of attempting the 
death of the Queen of Spain by means of “succession 
powders,’’as these infernal mixtures were sometimes called. 
She avoided a trial by fleeing to Brussels, but was never able to 
clear herself of the awful charge. The Duchess de Bouillon 
was confined for several months in the Bastile, and finally 
tried by the Chambre Ardente; she was not convicted, and 
was probably innocent. 

Notwithstanding the extreme measures adopted by the 
government to bring poisoners to justice, and the terrible 
punishment meted out, it was not until two years after the 
execution of the two noted Parisian poisoners that the horrid 
mania was abated. It is said that more than one hundred 
persons were hanged or burned before this was effected. 
Owing to the subtle nature of the medium employed, it is cer¬ 
tain that but a very small proportion of those guilty of poison¬ 
ing were ever detected and brought to justice. The aggregate 


SECRET POISONERS 


305 


of murders must have been enormous, and shows the low esti¬ 
mate in which human life was held two centuries ago. The 
history of the “slow poisoners” also demonstrates that there 
is, for lack of a better term, what may be called a “contagion 
of crime.” This is difficult to account for, unless on the 
theory that familiarity robs death and crime of much of their 
horrors, and that a bad example is more commonly followed 
than a good one. 

In the early part of the present century, many districts of 
India were infested with professional poisoners. This class 
embraced both Hindoos and Mohammedans. They resembled 
the Thugs, whose operations are described in the preceding 
chapter, in that their trade was murder, but, unlike them, 
never operated in bands, or even pairs, but carried on the 
nefarious work singly. A fundamental principle upon which 
these wretches operated seems to have been that it was folly 
to trust an accomplice when a murder was to be committed. 
A given district was usually selected by poisoners, generally a 
territory covering an area of about one hundred miles in 
radius, and after three or four murders had been committed 
therein, a move was made to another locality. Nearly all the 
victims were selected from the lower castes, owners and 
drivers of carts being among those most frequently devoted to 
death. The poison most commonly used was arsenic, although 
sometimes the assassins employed Daturia, a deadly drug 
prepared from the thorn tree, whose nature and effects are 
similar to those of belladona. It was not a difficult task to 
induce a driver to drink, nor was it hard to dispose of his 
effects, particularly through the agency of a broker. 

As a rule the poisoners affected the dress and ostensible 
calling of small merchants, particularly dealers in grain. 
Arriving at a village, the wretch would inquire for a yoke of 
oxen and a cart, which he wished to hire to bring from ,the 
country grain or some other commodity, which he represented 
himself as buying. He would always select the best cattle he 
could procure, and would disarm any suspicion that might 
arise in the mind of the simple villager, by paying the hire in 
advance and stipulating that the owner, or some one repre- 


3°6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 

senting him, should accompany the merchant to drive the 
team. 

The social customs of India permitted considerable famili¬ 
arity between a traveler and his driver. The two conversed 
constantly, and very commonly ate and drank together. The 
latter custom afforded many opportunities for the administra¬ 
tion of poison. It was rarely, however, that any attempt was 
made upon the life of the driver until the district from which 
he came had been left behind. When the victim began to 
feel the effect of the drug, he was persuaded to lie down in the 
bottom of the cart, the traveler offering to act as driver. 
Should the first dose not prove fatal, another was administered 
under the guise of medicine. 

Like the Thugs, the Poisoners had peculiar methods of 
disposing of the bodies of their victims. Very frequently the 
murderer would place the body under a convenient tree by the 
roadside in an attitude of sleep, and cover it with a sheet. 
When discovered, the natural inference would be that the 
corpse was that of a traveler who had lain down to rest and 
had expired from natural causes. It frequently happened, 
however, that the surroundings were not favorable to such a 
disposition of the body, in which event the Poisoner would 
sometimes carry it around in his cart for several days until a 
good opportunity presented itself for disposing of it. Indeed, 
some Poisoners adopted this method as safer than leaving the 
body by the roadside, for the reason that decomposition would 
render identification difficult, if not impossible. Many years 
ago a notorious Poisoner was captured and confessed to the 
commission of not less than eighteen murders of this character, 
even gloating over the recounting of each scene. This villain 
was a Mohammedan, and carried the poison in a silver charm 
tied on his arm. 

The extent to which secret poisoning prevailed in India 
was never ascertained, for the reason that the existence of 
these wretches was long unknown, but beyond a doubt vast 
numbers of people were murdered, usually for the possession 
of cattle and such small effects as the drivers had about their 
persons. Owing to radical action on the part of the govern- 


SECRET POISONERS 


307 


ment of Great Britain, the Poisoners, like the Thugs, have 
well-nigh disappeared from India, although their craft is 
doubtless practiced to some extent, even at the present day. 

About fifty years ago there was a decided revival of slow 
poisoning in England, and a large number of cases were 
discovered, and many of the perpetrators punished. It 
assumed almost the form of a mania, one wretch imitating 
the methods of others. As a rule, these professional poisoners 
were women of the lowest order, their first victims being 
usually their husbands and frequently their children. A more 
abhorrent motive for crime can hardly be imagined than was 
usually present in these cases—the desire to obtain from clubs 
to which they had subscribed, money for the burial of their 
victims. The discovery of these infernal practices led to the 
enactment of laws greatly restricting the sale of arsenic and 
other poisons. This mania was abated in a few years, and 
poisoning is not now especially frequent in England. 

The system of insuring the lives of children for a small 
amount, upon the payment of trifling sums weekly, for the 
express purpose of paying the expenses of funerals, in cases of 
death, the author regards as offering inducements to unnat¬ 
ural parents to poison children whom they regard as trouble¬ 
some. Several suspicious cases have already arisen, and, in 
some States, legislative action, looking to the suppression of 
the practice, has been taken. 

Discoveries in chemistry during recent years, by which the 
presence of poison in the human system can be almost cer¬ 
tainly detected, have greatly discouraged its use as a secret 
means of taking life, yet a large number of recent cases could 
readily be cited. It is safe to predict that the “epidemics’’ of 
poisoning which we have detailed in the present chapter will 
never be repeated. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


DUELING 

The practice of dueling, in the sense in which the term is 
at present employed, is of comparatively modern origin. The 
Latins used the word from which we derive “duel” to desig¬ 
nate a war between two nations. Fights to the death have 
been common since the beginning of the world’s history; but 
in these the meeting by appointment, each combatant being 
supported by friends called “seconds,” was absent. Among 
the earliest of these combats may be mentioned the one 
between David and Goliath. And, singularly enough, in this 
may be found the principle which was at the root of the prac¬ 
tice when it was first definitely established, the date of which 
may be put down as at the beginning of the seventh centur)^ 
of the Christian era. The Israelites and Philistines were at 
war and the armies of each were arrayed for battle, a valley 
separating, when Goliath, the mighty giant of the Philistines, 
issued his challenge for a single combat with the mightiest 
champion the enemy could send against him. David, the son 
of Jesse, a young man, presented himself. When Saul sought 
to dissuade him from the seemingly hopeless undertaking, he 
answered: “The Lord that delivered me out of the paw of the 
lion, and out of the paw of the bear, He will deliver me out of 
the hand of this Philistine.” And Saul said unto David: “Go, 
and the Lord be with thee. ’ ’ 

This brief colloquy furnishes the key to the beginning of 
dueling. It was a general belief, religious or superstitious, 
that the Almighty would interfere, directly and miraculously, 
in the conflict, to preserve the innocent and punish the guilty; 
in other words, that he who was the weakest physically, or 
the least trained or poorest equipped for the conflict, so 

308 


DUELING 


3°9 


long as he had God on his side, would surely triumph. In an 
early day, this method of settling disputed questions and 
deciding the guilt or innocence of one accused of crime, 
received the sanction of the law and was very frequently 
resorted to in England. This legal dueling was termed 
“wager of battel,” or “trial by battel.” The only people 
exempt from “trial by battel” were peers of the realm, citi¬ 
zens of London, women, infants, and men who were over sixty 
years of age, or who were lame or blind; these might demand 
a trial by jury. In criminal cases the parties fought them¬ 
selves, but in those of a civil character the matter was decided 
by champions. 

This mode of procedure was the same in civil and criminal 
cases. The combat was carried on in the presence of the 
court, who judged of its fairness. The defendant, or accused, 
as the case might be, threw down his glove and declared that 
he would prove his right or defend it with his body. The 
plaintiff, or accuser, then took up the glove and announced 
that he was prepared to make good his demand or charge, 
body for body. This done, the parties grasped each other’s 
hands and solemnly and with great formality joined issue 
before the court. The weapons employed were wooden 
batons, or staves, an ell—forty-five inches—in length, and 
four-cornered leathern targets. As a preliminary to the 
conflict, each of the combatants was obliged to solemnly swear 
that they would not employ arts of magic or witchcraft. 
Unless one or the other of the parties was sooner killed or 
disabled, the “battel” lasted until the stars appeared in the 
evening. The one who killed or got the better of the other 
was most solemnly adjudged the successful suitor before the 
court. Upon a charge of murder, if the accused was slain he 
was at once adjudged guilty, and his blood declared attainted; 
which meant that his heirs could not inherit his property; and 
if, before the appearance of the stars, he became unable, or 
unwilling, to continue the fight, he was found guilty, and 
immediately sentenced and executed. 

With the dawn of more enlightened and more humane 
times, “trial by battel” gradually disappeared in England, 


3 10 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


trial by jury taking its place, as well as that of “wager by 
witnesses,” where the party triumphed who could bring the 
most people into court to swear that they believed him. But 
this method of deciding disputes was not abolished by act of 
Parliament, and, as late as 1818, a party in the court of the 
King’s Bench demanded his right of “trial by battel,” as 
secured to him by the ancient common law of the realm. He 
was sustained in this position by the court, Lord Ellenbor- 
ough, a very eminent lawyer and jurist, remarking that “the 
general law of the land is in favor of the wager of battel, and 
it is our duty to pronounce the law as it is, and not as we may 
wish it to be; whatever prejudices, therefore, may justly exist 
against this mode of trial, still, as it is the law of the land, the 
court must pronounce judgment for it.” Happily, the pug¬ 
nacious litigant who obtained this judgment was induced to go 
no further, and as a result a statute, the 5th Geo. III. c. 46, 
was passed, by which the shocking ordeal was wholly abolished. 

The great French philosopher, Montesquieu, in his “Spirit 
of Laws, ’ ’ presents a very plausible and quite convincing argu¬ 
ment to show that the modern practice of dueling and the 
“laws of honor” had their origin in the barbarous judicial com¬ 
bat we have described. It seems probable that “trial by 
battel,” in turn, had its origin in the various “ordeals,” by 
which the guilt or innocence of an accused party was sub¬ 
mitted to some test whereby the judgment of the Almighty 
was supposed to be definitely obtained. That this practice is 
of great antiquity is shown from the circumstance that ordeals 
were resorted to in the old Bible times. In Numbers V. it is 
provided that a woman accused of adultery, having first taken 
solemn oaths as to her innocence, should drink certain ‘‘bitter 
waters” offered by the priest. In the event of her guilt it 
would prove fatal, but would be rendered harmless if she were 
innocent. 

In the early days of dueling, doubtless the belief that the 
issue of the encounter would be determined by a special act of 
Divine Providence, was almost universal. So far it had an 
apparent origin in sentiments of religion, but was greatly 
distorted in the middle ages, and was so turned and twisted as 


DUELING 


3ii 

to be made to justify the foulest wrongs. The homicidal 
impulse was given free rein, and arguments and authorities to 
show the righteousness of taking human life were never 
wanting. 

Although dueling, in the strict sense of the term, was 
unknown to the ancient Romans, personal conflicts between 
individuals, members of opposing armies, were by no means 
uncommon. Among these prearranged combats, one of 
decided interest has come down from the ancient Roman 
writers. While Rome was but a youthful kingdom, it became 
involved in a war with the Albans, whose rich territory the 
Romans greatly desired to possess. While the two hostile 
armies were resting in opposing camps, the Alban commander 
sought an interview with the Roman general. The result was 
the forming of an agreement to decide the relative supremacy 
of the two nations by means of personal combat. It happened 
that there were in the Roman forces three brothers known as 
the Horatii, highly renowned as men at arms, while in the 
Alban army were three other brothers, of about equal size and 
prowess, known as the Curiatii. It was agreed that the con¬ 
flict should take place between these respective champions, 
and that the supremacy of one state over the other should be 
determined by the result. The combat took place in the pres¬ 
ence of the two contending hosts, each man, whether Roman 
or Alban, watching it with the keenest interest. Two of the 
Horatii were killed and all their antagonists wounded. The 
surviving Roman brother, perceiving that it would be folly to 
contend against such odds, feigned flight, thus anticipating by 
many centuries the tactics of Napoleon Bonaparte, who always 
strove to separate the divisions of the opposing army. The 
wounded Curiatii, urged on by the exultant shouts of their 
comrades in arms, who believed that triumph was about to 
descend upon the standard of Alba, pursued. Weak from 
wounds, they advanced with uncertain step and at an unequal 
rate of speed. The wily Roman, looking over his shoulder, 
saw that one was far in advance, and, turning, relentlessly 
and quickly gave him his death wound. His ruse had proved 
successful, and he dispatched the brothers of the fallen soldier 


3 12 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


in like manner and with the utmost ease. The result was the 
absorption of the Alban territory and the people into the 
Roman State, and thenceforth the name of Alba disappears 
from the pages of ancient history. 

Nearly all the peculiar customs of the middle ages had their 
origin in and among the Germanic nations, and the practice of 
dueling appears to be no exception to this rule. About the 
first trace of duels that can be found in history appears among 
the Burgundians in 501. In that year King Gundebald intro¬ 
duced the duel into legal proceedings, in lieu of an oath. 
Louis the Debonnaire was the first of the French kings to 
permit litigants to appeal to arms. This was about the begin¬ 
ning of the ninth century. From this origin, however, the 
duel rapidly degenerated into a method for redressing either 
real or supposed private wrongs. It must be remembered, 
too, that during those early centuries a battle between con¬ 
tending armies was largely an aggregation of personal 
encounters. Men fought from instinct as well as by habit, 
and it is not strange that a practice originally sanctioned by 
law for one purpose should be adopted by individuals for 
another and quite different use. It is also likely that the cus¬ 
toms of knight errantry were, in some degree, responsible for 
familiarizing the popular mind with the practice of personal 
combat, and inducing a general respect therefor. 

Nor was dueling lacking of th£ highest earthly indorse¬ 
ment; several kings having more than “winked” at the prac¬ 
tice. In 1527 Francis I. of France sent a challenge to the 
Emperor Charles V., with whom he was at war, to decide their 
quarrel by the result of a single combat. Charles promptly 
accepted the challenge, but, for some reason, the duel never 
took place. Henry emphasized his royal example by declar¬ 
ing that a lie could only be borne without satisfaction by a 
base-born churl. This had a decided effect upon the world, 
and from that time dueling became very fashionable, and con¬ 
sequently very frequent. While the law did not recognize the 
practice as legitimate, it failed to positively condemn it, and 
courts had neither the authority nor the disposition to inter¬ 
fere with its prevalence. A gentleman who received an 


DUELING 


3i3 


affront, even although trivial, felt himself obliged, in honor, 
to demand from his adversary reparation at the point of the 
sword. Not to do so was considered evidence that the party 
affronted was destitute of personal courage, and unfit for 
association with men of honor. It might have been supposed 
> that this readiness to avenge an insult would have induced 
considerable caution before one was offered. Such, however, 
was not the case. A man cherishing hostilities toward another 
would frequently either give or provoke an affront, in order 
that he might have a pretext for meeting him in deadly com¬ 
bat. From the upper classes this custom spread among those 
of ruder manners, and much of the best blood of Christendom 
was, in consequence, foolishly spilled. Even women placed the 
seal of their approval upon the barbarous custom by showing 
especial favor to those whose achievements in this direction 
had been particularly noteworthy; high dames of the French 
and English courts receiving, with every mark of friendship 
and honor, men destitute of wit, wisdom or fortune, but who 
had acquired a reputation as famous duelists. 

As might be expected, the great prevalence of this murder¬ 
ous practice led to a reaction in which the wise and humane 
rulers of Christendom took an active part. In the meantime, 
the Christian Church took a decided stand against the cruel 
and demoralizing practice. This was true both of the Roman 
Catholics and the Reformers. The former decreed the 
excommunication of all participants in duels, seconds as well 
as principals, while the latter did everything in their power to 
discourage and prevent them, by teaching the enormous sin 
committed by duelists. Henry II., who succeeded to the 
throne of France in 1547, took an entirely different view of 
“affairs of honor” than had be£n entertained by his royal 
father, Francis I., and prohibited the practice, solemnly vow¬ 
ing that it should not prevail during his reign. This action 
was caused by the result of a duel fought in his presence by 
two of his friends, Francis de la Chastaigneree and Guy 
Chabot de Jarnac, in which the latter was killed. But neither 
his oath nor his royal edict had any perceptible effect, and the 
practice of private dueling continued to increase in France, 


3i4 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


where more duels were fought at this time than in any other 
country in Europe. 

Henry II. reigned but twelve years, and left the throne of 
France to his sons, three of whom reigned in succession, all 
being largely under the influence of his widow, the queen 
dowager. This woman, the infamous Catherine de Medici, 
whose plot to murder the Huguenots has been treated of at 
length in another chapter, was not of a character to discourage 
dueling, or any other vice, for that matter. While she con¬ 
tinued virtual monarch of France, her family, and the nobility 
of the realm, set most pernicious examples, which were 
eagerly followed by the people. In consequence of the loose¬ 
ness of the prevailing morals, and the deadly feud between 
Catholics and Protestants, the practice of dueling constantly 
increased. 

In the reign of Henry IV. efforts were made to check this 
rapidly growing evil, and in 1599 the Parliament of Paris 
declared all persons who were either principals or seconds in 
a duel to be rebels to the king. In 1609 Henry increased the 
existing penalties and even introduced the punishment of 
death in extreme cases. But this was without avail, largely, 
perhaps, because the measure was forced upon him by popular 
feeling, while he was far from disposed to rigidly enforce his 
own edict. As a matter of fact, he seems to have personally 
regarded the practice with favor. Upon one occasion, when 
he had given Creque his royal permission to fight Don Philip 
of Savoy, he added, “If I were not the King, I would be your 
second.” Henry was very free in granting pardons to con¬ 
victed duelists, the effect being to decidedly increase the 
interdicted practice. 

Another cause of the prevailing wickedness existed in the 
religious conflict, already alluded to. It was while Henry sat 
upon the throne that the first determined effort was made by 
the crown to insure the religious freedom of the subject. In 
the breasts of the Huguenots, many of whom belonged to the 
highest rank of French nobility, was rankling the recollection 
of a multitude of outrages committed upon their ancestors 
solely because of their reluctance to profess adherence to the 


DUELING 


3i5 


established religion of their country. Not a few of the 
descendants of those who had been proscribed during the 
reign of the earlier monarchs, finding themselves restored to 
rank and fortune by the promulgation of the Edict of Nantes 
in 1598, were not slow in seeking to avenge themselves upon 
those whom they regarded as the murderers of their ancestors. 
Insults flew back and forth, and challenges to mortal combat 
were far more frequent than were the caprices of passion dur¬ 
ing the existence of the Second Empire. Indeed, it is said 
that not less than four thousand gentlemen of France, either 
Catholic or Protestant, died upon the field of honor during the 
first eighteen years of the reign of one who was professedly an 
apostle of religious freedom. 

Louis XIII., son of Henry IV. and Marie de Medici, who 
ascended the throne of France upon the death of his father, 
May 14, 1610, seems to have had a natural and very decided 
aversion to the shedding of human blood. He possessed a 
feeble nature, but, perhaps so far as he was able, attempted to 
suppress the prevailing vice of the kingdom. He issued sev¬ 
eral edicts which he thought well calculated to discourage 
dueling, but which led to small results. That even a partial 
degree of success followed was due to the influence and inter¬ 
ference of Cardinal Richelieu, who, while nominally merely a 
priest of the church, was virtually the power behind the 
throne and dominated the policy of the French monarchy. 
This prelate, whose character was a strange admixture of 
much that was good with all that was bad, whose lust of power 
stopped at nothing which he believed to be adapted to its 
gratification, and who, under the guise of a religious adviser 
and personal friend, absolutely controlled the national and 
international policy of Louis XIII., was quick to perceive 
that dueling might, under certain circumstances, be tolerated 
as a means for the advancement and perpetuation of his own 
power. As priest and prelate, it was impossible for him to 
give official sanction to the practice of seeking revenge through 
any means whatever. 

Accordingly, probably at his suggestion, Louis XIII. issued 
an imperial edict making every participant in a duel, whether 


316 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


as principal or as a second, a criminal. For the sending of a 
challenge there was imposed the forfeiture of property and 
imprisonment for three years. Should the loss of life ensue 
from a hostile meeting, the successful combatant was to be 
held guilty of murder, and, if convicted, was to be capitally 
punished. How thoroughly this edict was carried into execu¬ 
tion, and how lax was the morality inculcated by those priests 
of the Catholic Church who recognized Cardinal Richelieu as 
their superior, is best attested by the fact that duels among 
gentlemen of the King’s household were not infrequent, while 
the authorities, at the head of whom stood the great cardinal, 
one of the monumental figures of his age, took no pains to 
bring the offenders to justice. 

During the reign of this monarch dueling assumed great 
proportions, and became so prevalent that Lord Herbert, the 
English ambassador, wrote home to his government that there 
was scarcely a Frenchman worth looking at who had not killed 
his man. It was during this reign that two distinguished 
noblemen, the greatest duelists of the day, Count de Boute- 
ville and the Marquis de Beurin, were tried and beheaded for 
persisting to fight after being forbidden to do so. 

Louis XIV., the son of Louis XIII., succeeded his father 
in 1643, at the age of five years, the kingdom being ruled by 
his mother, Anne of Austria, as regent, with the famous 
Cardinal Mazarin as prime minister. Mazarin died in 1661, 
when Louis suddenly assumed the reins of government and 
astonished the country with the vigor of his policy. During 
the regency of Anne dueling was very common, in many 
instances several persons, sometimes four or five, fighting on 
either side. This practice continued after the death of 
Mazarin. Two very sanguinary affairs of this kind having 
taken place, in which several persons of the highest rank were 
slain, the king determined to put an end to the practice. He 
published an edict in 1687 forbidding it under the highest 
penalties, which, unlike most of his predecessors, he had the 
firmness to inflict; and this measure, together with a solemn 
agreement which was entered into amongst the nobility them¬ 
selves, led to its almost total abolition at that time. 


DUELING 


3i7 


We search in vain for traces of the duel in England during 
the days of the Anglo-Saxons. Indeed, it does not appear to 
have existed there until after the Norman conquest. We 
have already alluded to the judicial form in which it existed 
in England. This continued for centuries, and did not become 
entirely obsolete until the reign of Elizabeth. Sir Henry 
Spelman gives an account of a trial by battle which occurred 
in the year 1571, but which terminated without an actual 
combat having been fought. 

But, although the practice had lost judicial sanction, 
private duels were quite frequent during her long reign, and 
likewise that of her successor, James I., by whom a severe 
statute against them was enacted in Scotland in 1600, while he 
was still ruler of that country. James I., whose name has 
become well-nigh synonymous with all that is weak and 
cowardly in the nature of man, was himself fearful of the very 
sight of a naked sword blade, and attempted, after he 
ascended the English throne, to discountenance the resort to 
personal combat as a method of avenging personal wrongs. 
How far he succeeded in this attempt is shown by the circum¬ 
stance that, during his reign, the practice was carried on, not 
only by members of the aristocracy, but also by artisans and 
tradespeople. James was always deeply grieved when he 
learned that a duel had been fought between members of his 
court. In the year 1609, a personal encounter occurred 
between two of his favorites, Sir George Orton and Sir James 
Stewart, and when the King learned that both were dead he 
was so deeply affected that he directed that their bodies should 
be buried in the same grave. 

During the civil war of the Commonwealth, the minds of 
almost all Englishmen were so much occupied with grave and 
weighty affairs that little time was left for questions of eti¬ 
quette, in consequence of which dueling declined to a marked 
extent. But with the accession to the throne of Charles II., 
the old cavalier spirit again asserted itself, and “affairs of 
honor’’ became of alarming frequency. Although a volup¬ 
tuary by instinct and by practice a profligate, he cherished the 
greatest detestation for dueling, but the weakness of his char- 


3iS 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


acter forbade any decisive action by him upon any subject. 
Indeed, under the reign of no other English monarch was 
the rage for dueling more violently manifested. Ballrooms, 
masquerades, theatres and the open streets were constantly the 
scenes of strife and bloodshed. Addison, in the “Spectator,” 
refers to the existence of a London club of duelists, in which 
no one was eligible as a member unless he had “fought his 
man.” The president of this “delectable” organization owed 
his elevation to that high office, to the fact that he had killed 
not less than half a dozen men in single combat. Seated 
around him at the festal board were arranged the other mem¬ 
bers of the club according to their rank, which was determined 
by the number of those which each had killed in personal 
encounters. 

In 1679 Charles, by and with the advice and consent of 
Parliament, issued a proclamation announcing that any one 
killing another person in a duel should be held for trial for 
murder, and that upon conviction no pardon would be 
granted. In spite of all this, however, during the reign of 
this monarch, which lasted from May 29, 1660, to February 6, 
1685, there occurred in England not less than one hundred and 
ninety-six duels, in which seventy-five persons were killed 
and one hundred and eight more or less severely wounded. 
It was no uncommon thing during that period for the seconds 
to so cordially espouse the cause of their respective principals 
as to engage in mortal combat themselves, upon the same 
ground, and at the same time. 

Among the prime favorites of this dissolute monarch may 
be reckoned the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Howard and the 
depraved Duchess of Shrewsbury. It is recorded that upon 
one occasion Lord Howard gave a grand fete at Spring Gardens, 
near Charing Cross, London, in honor of the profligate woman 
last named. Among those in attendance was the gay and 
fascinating Sydney, who largely monopolized the attention and 
the smiles of the Duchess, much to the anger of Lord Howard, 
whose fete Sydney did not hesitate to ridicule. Hardly had 
the festivities come to an end on the following morning when 
Howard sent a challenge to his rival. The meeting was 


DUELING 


3i9 


quickly “arranged”; Sydney received three serious thrusts 
from Howard’s sword, and was carried from the field danger¬ 
ously wounded, while his second was left dead upon the grass, 
pierced through the heart by the weapon of Lord Howard’s 
second. Naturally the tragedy was the cause of an immense 
scandal, not only at court, but throughout London as well. 
Among the first to hear the news was the Duke of Shrews¬ 
bury. His excitement knew no bounds, and, having become 
satisfied of his wife’s dishonor, he promptly sent a challenge 
to the Duke of Buckingham, whom he charged with having 
carried on an intrigue with the Duchess. Buckingham 
accepted the challenge with as little emotion as he might have 
displayed in drinking a glass of wine; and it is stated that the 
Duchess of Shrewsbury, disguised as a page, accompanied 
him to the field and held his horse while the latter fought with 
and killed her husband. English writers generally describe 
the killing of Shrewsbury as having been nothing short of cold¬ 
blooded murder; yet, notwithstanding all the terrible circum¬ 
stances with which it was surrounded, and despite the urgent 
and repeated remonstrances of Queen Henrietta, the King, 
shortly after the commission of this frightful crime, received 
Buckingham with open arms. 

During the reign of William III. some attempts were made 
to suppress this evil and demoralizing practice, but, owing to 
the sentiment of the great body of the people, they proved of 
small avail. In 1612 his successor, Queen Anne, called the 
attention of Parliament to the subject in a speech from the 
throne, but the suggestion failed to find favor; the bill pre¬ 
sented by the government was promptly rejected, and the 
practice continued to prevail, encouraged by the unsuccessful 
efforts that had been made to repress it. 

“Gretna Green” has not been more renowned as a place 
for clandestine marriages than has Hyde Park, London, been 
noted as a “field of honor.” Almost innumerable duels have 
been fought there, and in the latter part of the eighteenth 
century it became the common meeting ground for members 
of the aristocracy. The frequent meetings there excited the 
widest interest and aroused the most ardent admiration of the 


320 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


common people, who began to imitate the fashionable prac¬ 
tices of their social superiors. One portion of the enclosure 
has become almost classic, because of its having been selected 
as the field in which “little affairs of honor” might be 
arranged. This celebrated portion of the famous park was 
generally known as “The Ring.” The spot has been the 
scene of many a sanguinary conflict, and at one time was the 
favorite resort for duelists. In the year 1712 occurred here 
one of the most celebrated duels of the eighteenth century. 
Charles, Lord Mohun, and James, the fourth Duke of Hamil¬ 
ton, were the principals in a bloody tragedy. At one of the 
fashionable London clubs angry words passed between them, 
and on the following morning Lord Mohun sent his friend, 
General Macartney, to the duke with a peremptory demand 
that the latter should withdraw and apologize for the offensive 
epithet which he had used on the previous evening. The duke 
declining either to apologize or to retract, a meeting was 
immediately arranged, General Macartney representing Lord 
Mohun, and Colonel Hamilton appearing as second to the 
duke. From all accounts, it would seem that Mohun was more 
anxious for the encounter than his antagonist. When the 
parties met, the duke taunted General Macartney with having 
been the instigator of the conflict; the latter, while depre¬ 
cating the insinuation, expressed entire readiness to take part 
in the conflict. The duke, pointing toward Colonel Hamilton, 
said, “There is my friend; you will find him quite willing to 
share in my dance.” This was enough. Both principals and 
seconds drew their swords and engaged in combat almost 
simultaneously. Mohun and the duke inflicted upon each 
other fatal wounds, but the seconds, who were, perhaps, less 
enthusiastic, escaped without serious injury. Both of the 
principals were left dead upon the field. This is supposed to 
be the most authentic account of this famous encounter, 
although there are others extant. Historians have unearthed 
a letter in which is contained a statement that while Lord 
Mohun was expiring, the duke bent over him and with his 
sword grasped near its point, stabbed him in the left breast, 
the point entering the heart of the victim. The same letter 



































DUELING 


321 


is authority for the statement that the duke, after the com¬ 
mission of this dastardly act, was helped in his effort to reach 
a neighboring- house, but dropped dead upon the way, and 
was carried off in a coach before the chimes of the nearest 
clock had struck the hour of eight in the morning. His 
second, Colonel Hamilton, was immediately afterwards appre¬ 
hended and put on trial at the Old Bailey, where he obtained 
a verdict of acquittal. The next year, General Macartney 
surrendered to the authorities, and was duly arraigned. One 
of the chief witnesses in behalf of the prosecution was Colonel 
Hamilton, who made oath that he could not be mistaken in 
stating that the general was the person who had inflicted the 
fatal wound. In spite of this testimony, however, the jury 
brought in a verdict of simple manslaughter, and Hamilton, 
receiving an intimation that it was likely that he would be put 
on trial for perjury, fled the country. Within four months 
after his voluntary expatriation, he died, General Macartney 
surviving upon his native soil until 1730. 

Duels have a prominent place in English fiction of this 
period, the most famous authors recognizing the interest uni¬ 
versally taken in the subject, and frequently introducing them 
into their novels. The same course was taken by the 
dramatists of that time, although, for the most part, they 
burlesqued the “field of honor.” The prevailing vices and 
virtues of a people can quite accurately be traced from the 
pages of contemporary fiction, and the works of Fielding, 
Smollet, Sheridan and others, not only catered to the public 
admiration for dueling, but plainly indicate that Hyde Park 
was regarded as the approved place for a “meeting of two 
gentlemen,” and it was there that their imaginary heroes and 
villains settled their disputes. 

It was in Hyde Park that John Wilkes, M. P., fought 
another member of Parliament named Samuel Martin. Four 
shots were exchanged before the honor of the parties was 
satisfied, or either of them injured. On the fourth exchange 
of bullets, Wilkes fell, badly wounded, while Martin lost no 
time in crossing the Channel and gaining in France security 
from arrest. Wilkes was a bright but most loose and profli- 


322 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


gate character. He was a writer of considerable ability, 
but, for the most part, his works were either seditious or 
obscene. He was twice expelled from Parliament, and for a 
long time confined in prison; but, after all this, he was made 
Lord Mayor of London, and served for several years as a 
member of Parliament. 

In October, 1765, a very famous duel was fought upon the 
same spot, Lieutenant Redmond McGraw, an Irish gentleman, 
engaging four antagonists. It would hardly be supposed that, 
in a day when the use of the sword was universally under¬ 
stood, one man could prevail against four, yet such proved to 
be the case. McGraw was an expert swordsman, and pos¬ 
sessed of most remarkable courage. He succeeded in disarm¬ 
ing all of his antagonists, receiving in return only a slight 
flesh wound in the right arm. 

Some two years later, two brothers fought in Hyde Park. It 
seems that they were both paying addresses to the same lady, 
in consequence of which a bitter quarrel had arisen between 
them. The hatred was bitter and mutual, and the conflict was 
to the death. One brother fell, mortally wounded, while the 
other, instead of remaining to render him such assistance as 
humanity, and even the “code” required, ran from the field to 
avoid arrest. In this action the real principles of most duel¬ 
ists are exposed. This man could take the life of his brother, 
thus braving the vengeance of the Almighty, but had not the 
courage to face the constables who represented the mere 
earthly law. Will any candid person say that he was any 
less a fratricide because his equally vindictive brother had 
been striving to take his life? 

On St. Patrick’s day, March 17, 1776, George Garrick, a 
brother of the famous comedian, David Garrick, fought a 
duel near “The Ring,” with one of the actors of the stock 
company of the Drury Lane Theatre. The provocation had 
been the alleged flirtation of Garrick with the actor’s wife, a 
Mrs. Beardsley. At a peculiarly opportune moment, just 
before the fatal shots were exchanged, the lady appeared upon 
the scene, and her advent brought about a reconciliation, 
which, while satisfactory to all parties concerned, prevented a 


DUELING 


323 


stain of dishonor from attaching itself to the name borne by the 
great actor. 

Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the brilliant dramatist and 
renowned orator, whose first comedy, “The Rivals,” contains 
a scene in which the duel is made ridiculous, himself entered 
the field of honor. For some cause, the exact nature of which 
was not made public, he quarreled with an officer of the Eng¬ 
lish army, named Thomas Mathews, a captain in his Majesty’s 
foot. Sheridan sent the challenge, which was promptly 
accepted by Captain Mathews. “The Ring” in Hyde Park 
was selected as the place for the meeting. In the meantime, 
the matter had become public property, and the hostile 
antagonists found a large and intensely interested audience 
awaiting the beginning of hostilities. This was more than the 
combatants had bargained for, and the meeting was postponed 
by an agreement between the seconds. The “Pillars of 
Hercules,” one of the best known places in London at the 
present time, was selected as a substitute for “The Ring.” 
Arriving there, the parties, to their infinite disgust, found a 
larger audience than they had left in Hyde Park. They there¬ 
fore repaired to the Castle Tavern, Henrietta Street, Covent 
Garden, where they mutually satisfied their wounded honor 
without any serious results in the way of injuries. 

For almost a century the famous “Ring” continued to be 
the leading dueling ground of England, but space forbids 
anything like a full account of the sanguinary encounters that 
have taken place there. It did not lose favor as a field of 
honor, but ceased to be so employed only when the practice of 
dueling fell into disuse in England. 

The period extending, with some interruptions, from the 
reign of James I. to the close of the reign of George III., was 
that in which dueling principally prevailed in England. It is 
said by good authorities that, during the long reign of the last- 
named monarch, one hundred and forty persons were engaged 
as principals, and at least an equal number as seconds. Sixty- 
nine individuals were killed; and ninety-six wounded, forty- 
eight seriously, while one hundred and seventy-nine escaped 
unhurt. It is stated that this large number of duels was fol- 


324 


MURDER IN ALL AGE 


lowed by only eighteen trials, in eight of which the individuals 
charged were acquitted, while seven were found guilty of 
manslaughter, and three of murder. The net results, so far 
as the infliction of judicial punishment was concerned, were 
two executions and the imprisonment of eight persons during 
different periods. A considerable proportion of these 
encounters took place between officers of the army, a circum¬ 
stance which appears to have been the cause of particular 
regret to George, who put forth some efforts to abridge the 
practice, but with only partial success. It was hardly to be 
expected that when his Royal Highness, the Duke of York, 
himself engaged in a duel with an officer named Colonel 
Lennox, as he did in 1789, there could be any decided disap¬ 
proval of dueling among army officers. The Right Honorable 
William Pitt, long the prime minister of George III., also 
furnished a scandalous example to the people of England by 
engaging in a duel with George Tierney, in 1798. 

From the close of the reign of George III., dueling gradu¬ 
ally decreased in England, thanks principally to an improved 
public sentiment, but the practice continued to a considerable 
extent among the officers of the army and the navy. At last 
this attracted the attention of the government. In an article 
of war adopted in 1844, dueling between officers rendered the 
participants liable to be cashiered upon conviction. This 
repressive measure was largely induced by the fatal termina¬ 
tion of an encounter in 1843 between Colonel Fawcett and 
Captain Monroe. The year following the adoption of the 
article, however, two military officers met upon the field of 
honor, and one of them, Lieutenant Sexton, was killed. The 
effect of this affair was to arouse still greater hostility to the 
custom among the English people, and there was formed a 
“Society for the Discouragement of Dueling.” For the last 
half century public opinion in Great Britain has so strongly 
reprobated the custom that the practice, so far as encounters 
upon English soil are concerned, has practically come to an 
end. 


CHAPTER XIX 


DUELING—CONTINUED—NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 

The practice of dueling has prevailed to a greater or less 
extent in every country of Europe. “Trial by battel” was 
introduced into Scotland about the beginning of the twelfth 
century, and was not entirely superseded by other legal 
methods for settling disputes until five hundred years had 
elapsed. For a time it was strictly confined to legitimate 
causes left to the courts for adjudication, but gradually it began 
to be adopted, usually with variations in which more deadly 
weapons were employed, for the settlement of private quarrels. 
As duels increased in frequency, laws were enacted looking to 
their suppression. Mild legislation proving ineffectual, more 
stringent laws were passed, notably one mentioned in the 
preceding chapter. This statute provided the punishment of 
death for those who participated in such an encounter, even 
though no injury resulted. This law considerably checked 
dueling in Scotland, but was far from stamping it out. In 
1698 a law was enacted punishing the giving, sending or 
accepting of a challenge to fight a mortal combat, with banish¬ 
ment, and this applied even if no meeting took place. In 
addition, all the movable property of the offender was for¬ 
feited to the crown. Stringent as the enactments were, they 
failed to suppress dueling, which continued, with diminishing 
frequency, down to recent times. 

Sir Walter Scott, one of the most accurate of all Scotch 
authors, has described in his novel, “The Fair Maid of Perth,” 
a duel which, though mainly fictitious, none the less clearly 
and accurately shows the clannish feeling and fighting qualities 
of the Scottish people. In 1396 a bitter feud raged between 
two Scottish clans, known respectively as Clan Chattan and 

325 


326 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Clan Rae. At length it was determined that the matters in 
dispute should be submitted to the arbitrament of the sword, 
each side selecting thirty champions. *The event aroused 
great interest throughout the kingdom, and upon the day fixed 
for the battle the king and his court, together with the nobility 
generally, assembled to view the conflict. It was found, when 
each side counted its band of chosen warriors, that only 
twenty-nine of the selected champions of Clan Chattan 
were present. It was proposed that the Clan Rae should 
withdraw one of its warriors in order that the number on both 
sides might be equal. Yet so indomitable was the spirit of 
these brave fellows that not one would consent to surrender 
the honor of appearing in the lists as champion of his clan. 
After some delay, a soldier, who belonged to neither of the 
hostile factions, was found who consented to supply the place 
of the missing man, and the battle proceeded. When it was 
over, all of the thirty representatives of the Clan Rae save one 
lay dead upon the field, while of those of the Clan Chattan, only 
ten, beside the volunteer, were left alive, and each of these 
was more or less seriously wounded. The sole survivor of the 
unfortunate thirty who had done such valiant battle in behalf 
of the Clan Rae, refusing to surrender, and at the same time 
being unwilling to continue so unequal a contest, threw him¬ 
self into the river Tay and found safety in flight. 

A very famous duel was fought in Scotland at an early day 
by Sir Evan Lochiel, chief of the famous Clan Cameron, and 
an English officer named Colonel Pellew. For two hours they 
fought furiously and incessantly, when the English officer was 
disarmed. Dropping his own sword, Lochiel clinched with 
his antagonist, and for half an hour the two wrestled. At last 
they fell, the Scottish chief being underneath. Although the 
smaller and weaker of the two, Sir Evan managed to fasten 
his teeth upon the throat of his adversary and to tear away 
considerable quantities of flesh, which he still retained in his 
mouth when carried off the field. To such brutish barbarity 
dueling can reduce a naturally brave and humane man. 

“Trial by battel” was introduced into Ireland about the 
time it was adopted in Scotland, and for a time was confined 


DUELING—CONTINUED 


327 


to its legitimate judicial domain. Some of the judicial com¬ 
bats which took place even at a comparatively late day were 
remarkable no less for their sanguinary character than for 
their attendant circumstances of brutality. One of the most 
noted of these was a combat which occurred in 1538 between 
two determined Celts, who rejoiced in the somewhat striking 
names of Connor McCormack O’Connor, and Teig McGilpatrick 
O’Connor. The former was several times severely wounded 
and finally killed. The duel was fought within the walls of 
Dublin Castle, in the presence of the Lord Justices of Ireland 
and the members of the Irish Privy Council. The head of the 
dead man was severed from his body and laid before the mem¬ 
bers of the Judiciary by the victorious Teig. 

Of an impetuous, not to say quarrelsome, disposition, the 
people of Ireland took very kindly to the new institution, and 
soon began to settle their own private disputes by means of 
personal encounters, and dueling speedily became the decided 
fashion. The rise of the duel was much more rapid in Ireland 
than in Scotland, and was sustained after it had been almost 
entirely discontinued in the latter country, and also after it 
had practically disappeared from England. The reason of this 
may be found in the fact that the people, particularly those of 
the better class, were far from disapproving of the practice. 
During the last days when an Irish Parliament sat in College 
Green, Dublin, duels were of frequent occurrence. Nor were 
they confined to the young and hot-headed representatives 06 
the impulsive Celts; many of the leading men of the country, 
often those connected with the government, exchanging shots 
upon the dueling ground. Such statesmen as O’Connel, 
Curran, Gratton, Sheridan, and numerous others, regarded the 
sending of a challenge to mortal combat as one of the most 
natural and commendable acts of life. More than that, they 
looked upon one who declined to accept a challenge as a 
coward and poltroon. There were few Irishmen of any pub¬ 
lic prominence during the latter part of the last century who 
had not, at some period of his career, “fought his man.” 
With such examples before them, it is not to be wondered that 
the young men of Ireland, particularly those of the upper 


328 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


classes, generally and almost eagerly fell into the practice 
which had the favor of those whom they regarded as the fore¬ 
most men on earth. Despite this education, which amounted 
almost to second nature, it appears that at the period under 
discussion the fighting of a duel was not regarded as a reason 
for future enmity between the participants therein. Indeed, 
a crossing of swords or an exchange of shots frequently wiped 
out all past ill feelings and made devoted friends of the late 
combatants. 

Of all the counties of Ireland, those of Tipperar)^ and Gal¬ 
way acquired and maintained the highest reputation for the 
prevalence of dueling among nearly all classes of people. 
The former county was especially noted for the number of its 
excellent swordsmen, while the people of Galway were no less 
famous for their proficiency in the use of the pistol. The 
inhabitants of counties Roscommon and Sligo also enjoyed the 
reputation of being excellent shots, and were by no means 
averse to the demonstration of their skill in personal encoun¬ 
ters, which were often brought about through the most trivial 
causes. In County Mayo the sword and the pistol were alike 
favorite weapons among duelists, the prevalent sentiment 
appearing to have been that provided it were possible to have 
a fight, it made little difference what engine of destruction 
was selected. 

In a word, during the period under consideration dueling 
was so popular in Ireland that not the slightest effort looking 
toward its repression was put forth by either Parliament or 
the courts; legislators and judges being alike ready to resort 
to the practice upon any and very nearly all occasions. 

The stringent laws of Great Britain, which, after the union, 
applied to Ireland, speedily had the effect of discouraging the 
practice of dueling, which is now practically unknown in that 
country. That personal encounters are still common in 
Ireland is true, but they do not occur by appointment, which 
is the initial step in what is properly termed a duel. 

Although dueling probably originated among the Ger¬ 
manic people, it never became as prevalent there as in France, 
and some other countries of Europe. Joseph II., who became 


D U E L IN G—C O N TIN U E D 


329 


Emperor of Germany in 1765, having previously been king of 
Rome, took a decided stand against the practice, which was 
quite frequent in his day, particularly among military men. 
“The custom is detestable,” declared this monarch, “and 
shall not be permitted to thrive in my army. I despise men 
who send and accept challenges to meet each other in mortal 
combat. Such men are, in my estimation, more despicable, 
by far, than were the Roman gladiators. ’ * 

The pronounced position of the Emperor Joseph seems to 
have had much to do with checking dueling in Germany, 
which, since his day, has never assumed the proportions of 
ancient times. As a matter of fact, the German is but little 
addicted to quarreling. The Teutonic disposition is generally 
regarded as decidedly phlegmatic; and the average German, 
while standing for his own rights, is careful to observe the 
rights of others, and is far more scrupulous in the matter of 
inflicting a wrong upon another than in resenting an affront 
offered to himself. At the same time, no one doubts the cour¬ 
age of the Germans, which has been demonstrated on too 
many hard-fought battle-fields to admit of question. It is 
generally supposed that the students of the modern German 
universities are greatly addicted to dueling. That actual 
encounters sometimes occur between them is undoubtedly true, 
yet by far the greater proportion of those reported are nothing 
more than fencing-bouts with sharp weapons. They may be 
termed foolish, but can hardly be called deadly affairs, since 
the seconds, who are always armed as well as the principals, 
usually interfere to prevent serious bloodshed. A large num¬ 
ber of this class of duels are annually fought in Germany. 

There are not wanting writers who do not hesitate to 
assert that with the advent of the Second Empire in France, 
which they allege to have been in all essential respects a hol¬ 
low mockery and an empty sham, came the inauguration of a 
laxity of morals, which in some of its aspects was hardly 
equaled during the reign of the most dissolute of the sover¬ 
eigns of the House of Bourbon. Without conceding or deny¬ 
ing the justice of this criticism, it is possible to say, without 
fear of successful contradiction, that within the last half cen- 


330 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


tury a species of dueling has arisen in France which is as 
contrary to the dictates of ordinary morality as it is far 
removed from inducing the personal danger which attends 
similar combats in almost every other country. The politi¬ 
cian, journalist, man about town, and, in fact, nearly every 
one in the French capital, rather prides himself upon sending 
a challenge for causes which either the Teutonic or Anglo- 
Saxon races would regard as utterly insufficient. Fortunately 
for the quick-witted, hot-headed Frenchmen, the customs of 
his country afford him an opportunity for the vindication of 
his “honor” without the incurring of any special personal 
risk. Among men who, while deprecating the custom, would 
engage in personal combat only when they expected to give 
or receive a mortal wound, modern French duels provoke 
ridicule and, in many cases, excite contempt. The principals 
meet; the utmost niceties of “The Code” are observed; two 
or three harmless lunges with a sword are exchanged;' no one 
receives a scratch; but offended Gallic honor is thoroughly 
satisfied. Whatever may be thought or said by way of justi¬ 
fication or condemnation of the custom of dueling, the modern 
French duel cannot be regarded in any other light than as a 
travesty upon manly courage and an insult to human intelli¬ 
gence. 

Some French duelists of modern times have appeared upon 
the field so often that their names have become as familiar in 
the United States as in France. Perhaps the most noted of 
these are the famous Paul de Cassagnac and Henri Rochefort. 
Dr. Clemenceau has also achieved an unenviable distinction 
on the same line. He is equally expert with the pistol and the 
sword, and few men care to face him in an encounter of this 
character. Indeed, it is said in France that to meet either 
Clemenceau or De Cassagnac is to insure a passport to the 
hospital and possibly to the grave. Rochefort is also a capital 
shot, yet he once showed his fear of meeting De Cassagnac, 
declining to accept the latter’s challenge except upon the 
terms that they should fight with loaded pistols, breast to 
breast. De Cassagnac declared that such a stipulation 
amounted to a positive invitation to commit both suicide and 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


33i 


murder, and refused to entertain it. These men, with a few 
others, furnish exceptions to the rule now generally prevalent 
in France that dueling is merely a pleasant and harmless 
pastime. 

Some early travelers among North American Indian tribes 
of the far west, describe a mode of dueling as prevalent 
among them which was certainly peculiarly their own. When 
it was determined between two adversaries that a duel was 
unavoidable, the unwritten law of the tribe required that both 
combatants should meet death. The party receiving the chal¬ 
lenge appeared upon the field unarmed, and was speedily dis¬ 
patched by his antagonist. The latter, while his enemy was 
still weltering in blood, was expected to present his own 
weapon to some relative or friend of the dying man, and 
calmly await the mortal wound which was certain to be 
given. 

While personal encounters are common among the hot¬ 
headed Mexicans, the duel, in the sense in which that word is 
usually understood, is comparatively infrequent. The Mexi¬ 
can is quick alike in perceiving and in resenting an affront, 
but an encounter usually follows the giving of an insult 
immediately, and upon the very spot where it was received. 
A common mode of challenging is for the party who considers 
himself aggrieved, either to throw his glove in his adversary’s 
face, or to wave it before him. This is well understood to be 
a challenge to a fight, and is never declined, ynless by a self- 
confessed coward, which is a rare commodity in that country. 
The challenging party commonly has either his pistol or his 
knife drawn at the time, and'his antagonist is not always for¬ 
tunate enough to be able to produce his own weapon in self- 
defense. The knife is much favored by the Mexicans, 
particularly among those in the country districts. Fights of 
this character are of common occurrence at weddings, and it is 
not infrequently the case that the groom, and sometimes the 
bride even, is killed. Friends of the two men between whom 
the first quarrel originated, espouse the side of one or the 
other of the antagonists and a general fight ensues, in which 
it often happens that many of the guests are killed by random 


332 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


shots. When a duel, as such, is fought, the details are 
arranged between friends of the contending parties, one prin¬ 
cipal never sending a challenge directly to the other. The 
locality most favored is a dark room, whither the two enemies 
repair, neither accompanied by a friend, and fight, usually to 
the death, with knives. Indeed, when the door is opened it is 
often found that two dead bodies are lying upon the floor. 
This description of dueling is especially common in Yucatan. 
The deadliness of the passions of the antagonists may be 
inferred from the fact that it is the custom to keep the door of 
the room tightly closed until absolute silence reigns within. 

Another form of dueling to which Mexicans and South 
Americans frequently resort, takes place on horseback. These 
encounters generally occur upon the pampas or plains. Two 
lines are marked out upon the ground at a stipulated distance, 
and one horseman takes up his location at each. Urging their 
animals to full speed they ride past each other, each thrusting 
at his antagonist with his sword as he goes by. No sooner 
have the riders reached each the line at which his opponent 
had been posted than he wheels about, and, again riding at 
full speed, makes another lunge at his adversary as he goes 
by. This is continued until one of the duelists is unhorsed. 

Dueling never prevailed to any considerable extent in the 
United States, or in the English Colonies before the Revolu¬ 
tion, and this should be regarded by all true Americans as 
highly complimentary to the nation, and to the character of 
the people, whose enlightened public sentiment and ideas 
touching the sanctity of human life, have caused the practice to 
fall into absolute disrepute. To send a challenge to mortal 
combat to-day, unless in some rude portion of the far west, 
where border manners prevail and local government is weak, 
would cause the sender to be either despised or ridiculed, fre¬ 
quently both. Those who have suffered grievances of a sub¬ 
stantial nature have ample redress at the hands of the law, to 
which they are not slow in appealing. Thus the practice of 
dueling, which originated in one of the forms of trial provided 
by the law, has with us given place to the law itself, whose 
improved methods usually provide substantial justice and leave 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


333 


no excuse for an injured man to make himself his own judge, 
jury and executioner. 

Americans, as a rule, are high-spirited, and not in the least 
wanting in courage. Personal insults are resented, but not 
after the rules of the “Code.” Sometimes shooting affrays 
follow altercations, but more frequently the difficulty is settled 
by an appeal to those weapons with which every man has 
been provided by nature. 

So far as dueling ever prevailed in this country, it was 
ever much more affected in the South than in the North. In 
the former section, the old “cavalier” spirit has always largely 
existed and the word “honor” given a meaning that never 
obtained among the Puritans of New England and their west¬ 
ern descendants. The existence in the South of an aristocracy 
founded principally upon wealth—particularly broad estates— 
and the presence of an enslaved raoe, are doubtless the leading 
causes of this distinction. Happily for the country, this 
difference has now well-nigh disappeared; and the people of 
our republic are substantially one common brotherhood. At 
the present time, dueling is almost unknown in the South, 
popular sentiment being nearly as strong against it there a’s in 
the North. 

Not only do statutes of the national government prohibit 
and severely punish dueling, but every State in the Union has 
provided severe penalties for engaging in the practice, the 
offense being made a felony. In many States the sending or 
carrying of a challenge to mortal combat is made an offense 
punished by severe penalties. In every State, the killing of a 
man in a duel is treated as murder, or at least manslaughter. 
The respect that Americans entertain for the laws of their own 
making has no doubt much to do with the almost universal 
contempt for the duelist. At the same time, laws are the 
result of public sentiment, and those against this barbarous 
practice had their origin in the good sense and good morals of 
those who founded our Republic. 

The circumstance that dueling never prevailed in this 
country to the extent that it did in Europe, is due primarily 
to the fact that the practice was greatly discouraged in the old 


334 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


world before any considerable settlements were made here. 
But during the latter part of the eighteenth century, when 
duels were common in England, they were far from being 
unknown in the United States, although, except in the South¬ 
ern States, they were never upheld by public sentiment. 
Few encounters of this character between men of great 
prominence have occurred here. The most noted one was that 
between Aaron Burr and Alexander Hamilton, which occurred 
July ii, 1804. The death of General Hamilton plunged the 
nation into grief, and created a sensation that has seldom been 
equaled in this country. 

Both Hamilton and Burr had a prominent part in the build¬ 
ing of our Republic, and both at an early day became impor¬ 
tant factors in the political history of the nation. As early as 
1790 a decided political rivalry existed between the two states¬ 
men, Hamilton being prominent in the party known as the 
Federalists, while Burr became one of the leaders of the 
Republican—now the Democrat—party. Although a young 
man, Hamilton was the intimate friend of Washington, while 
Burr was closely associated with Thomas Jefferson. Both 
aspired to become President of the Republic. Upon more than 
one occasion Hamilton had reflected upon the character of 
Burr, writing, as early as 1792: “In a word, we have an 
embryo Caesar in the United States, ’tis Burr.” At length, 
Hamilton declared in the presence of Dr. Charles D. Cooper, a 
personal friend of Burr, that he “looked upon Mr. Burr as a 
dangerous man, and one who ought not to be trusted with the 
reins of government. ’ ’ 

On June 18, 1804, Aaron Burr sent to General Hamilton an 
open letter from Dr. Cooper, which, he said, advised him that 
Hamilton had made some statements reflecting upon his 
honor, and insisting that the latter either withdraw the same, 
or acknowledge the correctness of Cooper’s statement. This 
communication from Burr was delivered to General Hamilton 
by Mr. W. P. Van Ness, who evidently regarded himself as 
being either a present or prospective bearer of a challenge. 

Hamilton’s antipathy to dueling was well known and had 
been frequently expressed, yet his courage was undoubted. 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


335 


Not wishing to engage in a personal encounter if the same 
could be avoided, he requested the privilege of being per¬ 
mitted one or two days’ time in which to reflect upon the con¬ 
tents and tenor of Colonel Burr’s communication. This was 
granted, and on June 20th, he addressed to Burr a communica¬ 
tion which, in its happy blending of courage with discretion, 
no less than in the expression of manifest willingness on the 
part of its author to explain any cause of misunderstanding, 
absolutely denied the right of his political opponent to accept 
as correct an inferential interpretation of anything he might 
have said in the course of private conversation, stands out as 
a masterpiece of epistolary skill and as a thorough exposition 
of the principles which might have been presumed to have 
actuated such a man under such circumstances. 

One paragraph from this celebrated letter is well worth 
quoting. General Hamilton says: “I cannot reconcile it with 
propriety to make the acknowledgment or denial you desire. 
Yet I will add that I deem it inadmissible, on principle, to 
consent to be interrogated as to the justness of the inferences 
which may be drawn by others from whatever I may have said 
of a political opponent, in the course of fifteen years’ competi¬ 
tion. If there were no other objection, this would be suffi¬ 
cient, that it would tend to expose my sincerity and delicacy 
to injurious implication from any person who may at any time 
have conceived the import of my expressions differently from 
what I may have intended or may afterwards recollect. . . 

More than this cannot fitly be expected from me; and espe¬ 
cially it cannot be reasonably expected that I shall enter into 
an explanation upon a basis so vague as that which you have 
adopted. I trust, on more reflection, you will see the matter 
in the same light with me. If not, I can only regret the 
circumstance and abide the consequence. ’ ’ 

On the day following the date of General Hamilton’s reply 
to his first communication, Burr sent a second letter, satirical 
in its language and undoubtedly intended to be particularly 
aggravating in tone. He regretted “to find in it” (Hamilton’s 
letter) “nothing of that sincerity and delicacy which you” 
(Hamilton) “professed to value.’’ He followed this sneer with 


33 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


a taunt even yet more exasperating. ‘ ‘ Political opposition, ’ ’ he 
wrote, “can never absolve gentlemen from the necessity for a 
rigid adherence to the laws of honor and the rules of decorum. 
I neither claim such privilege nor indulge it in others.” 

This stinging letter produced upon General Hamilton the 
effect which its writer had desired and expected, and on the 
following day he consulted Mr. Nathaniel Pendleton, whose 
services as a second he had determined to request should a 
meeting with Burr prove unavoidable. 

As a result of the conference between Hamilton and Pen¬ 
dleton, a communication was sent by the latter to Mr. Van 
Ness advising the latter gentleman, in his capacity as the pro¬ 
posed second of Burr, that it was impossible for General 
Hamilton to enter into further correspondence unless Burr 
would withdraw his last letter, and write one which would 
admit of an amicable reply. Van Ness, acting for his prin¬ 
cipal, declined to withdraw the letter, which General Hamilton 
regarded as particularly offensive, and a very brief corre¬ 
spondence ensued. 

By way of emphasizing Hamilton’s aversion to enter into a 
controversy with Burr, such as that on which the latter seemed 
determined to insist, the- following letter, written by the 
former under date of June 22, 1804, and placed in the hands 
of Mr. Pendleton, should be cited: 

“Sir:—Your first letter, in its style too peremptory, made a 
demand, in my opinion, unprecedented and unwarrantable. 
My answer, pointing out the embarrassment, gave you an 
opportunity to take a less objectionable course. You have not 
chosen to do it; but by your last letter, received this day, 
containing expressions indecorous and improper, you have 
increased the difficulties to an explanation intrinsically to the 
nature of your application. 

“If by a definite reply you mean the direct avowal or dis¬ 
avowal required of in your first letter, I have no other answer 
to give than that which has already been given. If you mean 
anything different, admitting of greater latitude, it is requisite 
you should explain.” 

This letter was held back by Pendleton for four days, in 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


337 


hopes that a hostile encounter might yet be averted. So 
determined, however, was Colonel Burr and his second, Mr. 
Van Ness, upon forcing a duel, that all efforts looking toward 
an amicable settlement finally fell through, and General Ham¬ 
ilton consented to meet Mr. Burr, because he believed that, 
should he fail to do so, a mistaken public opinion would 
impeach his bravery as a soldier and his honor as a gentleman. 
After some delay, due to General Hamilton’s request that he 
might be accorded time in which to attend to certain cases 
pending in the United States Circuit Court, in which he 
appeared as counsel, the two men met on July n, 1804. The 
locality chosen was a spot upon the New Jersey shore, on the 
west bank of the Hudson, where now stands the little city of 
Weehawken. The hour named was seven o’clock in the morn¬ 
ing. The details of the duel, as furnished by the seconds, 
Messrs. Van Ness and Pendleton, are as follows: 

“Colonel Burr arrived first on the ground, as had been 
previously agreed. When General Hamilton arrived the 
parties exchanged salutations, and the seconds proceeded to 
make their arrangements. They measured the distance, ten 
full paces, and cast lots for the choice of position, as also to 
determine by whom the word should be given, both of which 
fell to the second of General Hamilton. They then proceeded 
to load the pistols in each other’s presence, after which the 
parties took up their stations. The gentleman who was to 
give the word then explained to the parties the rules which 
were to govern them in firing, which were as follows: The 
parties being placed at their stations, the second who gives 
the word shall ask them whether they are ready; being 
answered in the affirmative, he shall say, ‘One, two, three, 
fire,’ and he shall then fire or lose his fire. He then asked if 
they were prepared; being answered in the affirmative, he 
gave the word ‘present,’ as had been agreed upon, and both 
parties presented and fired in succession—the intervening time 
is not expressed, as the seconds do not precisely agree on that 
point. The fire of Colonel Burr took effect, and General 
Hamilton almost instantly fell. Colonel Burr then advanced 
toward General Hamilton, with a manner and gesture that 


33^ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


appeared to General Hamilton’s friend to be expressive of 
regret, but without speaking turned about and withdrew, 
being urged from the field by his friends, with a view to pre¬ 
vent his being recognized by the surgeons and bargemen, 
who were than approaching. No further communication took 
place between the principals, and the barge that carried 
Colonel Burr immediately returned to the city. We conceive 
it proper to add that the conduct of the parties in this inter¬ 
view was perfectly proper as suited the occasion. ’ ’ 

General Hamilton was shot in the right side. He expired 
about two o’clock on the following morning. He recovered 
consciousness before his death and expressed his strong love 
for his wife and children and his abiding faith in the Christian 
religion. By a curious coincidence, Alexander Hamilton’s 
eldest son, Philip Hamilton, was killed in a duel at Wee- 
hawken, not far from the spot where his father afterwards fell, 
January io, 1802. General Hamilton learned of the place of 
meeting and hastened forward to prevent it, but fainted on 
the way. Hamilton’s antagonist was G. J. Baker, who was 
the challenged party. Mrs. Alexander Hamilton survived her 
husband half a century, dying in New York in 1854, at the 
advanced age of ninety-seven years. 

The second most noted duel ever fought in America was 
between two famous naval officers, Commodore Stephen A. 
Decatur and James Barron. The meeting took place March 
22, 1820, at Bladensburg, Md., and resulted in the death of 
Commodore Decatur. The circumstances which led up to this 
unfortunate affair are of sufficient interest to be briefly stated 
in this connection. Commodore Decatur, while yet a captain 
in the navy, had served under Barron, who was at that time 
himself a commodore. In 1807, while the commodore’s flag¬ 
ship, the Chesapeake, was lying in the harbor of Norfolk, 
Va., several desertions from British men-of-war occurred, 
the deserters enlisting as marines for service upon the Chesa¬ 
peake, for which service recruits were then being secured. 
The British commander requested that these deserters, being 
British subjects, should be surrendered to the representatives 
of his Majesty’s government. The request not being com- 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


339 


plied with, the English Minister at Washington made a formal 
demand upon the American government of a like character. 
The authorities at Washington declined to accede to the 
request, and while the matter was in this position, the Chesa¬ 
peake put out to sea, with the deserters on board. Thereupon 
the British government directed Captain Humphreys of the 
frigate Leonard to follow the American vessel and take these 
men by force if necessary. These orders were literally 
obeyed. The Leonard overtook the Chesapeake, hailed her, 
and sent a boat alongside in command of a lieutenant. The 
latter officer was received on board the Chesapeake by Com¬ 
modore Barron, and proceeded to state to the American officer 
the nature of the instructions given Captain Humphreys, 
adding that the latter had no discretion in the premises, and 
should consider himself bound to obey these orders unless the 
men in question were given up. To this Barron replied that 
there were no British deserters on board his vessel. The 
Englishman thereupon withdrew and returned to his vessel. 
The Leonard at once drew up alongside the Chesapeake and 
reiterated the demand already made in a more forcible manner. 
Receiving no reply, she opened fire upon the American man- 
of-war, and the Commander of the Chesapeake struck his 
colors without firing a gun. A crew from the Leonard 
boarded the Chesapeake and took from her four of the English 
deserters, together with an American sailor. 

As a matter of course, this affair led to an investigation into 
Commodore Barron’s conduct in the premises. A court- 
martial was ordered, which sentenced Barron to suspension, 
although giving him the pay which the regulations of the serv¬ 
ice allotted to officers in his situation. 

Twelve years later the suspended officer applied for rein¬ 
statement to his former rank, together with assignment to 
active service at full pay. He alleged that the findings of the 
court-martial, although reviewed and approved by the Presi¬ 
dent, had been grossly unjust. The application was referred 
to Commodore Decatur, who had succeeded the applicant as 
Senior Commodore in the American navy. Decatur unhesi¬ 
tatingly expressed the opinion that the application ought to be 


340 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


denied; and while disclaiming any sentiment of personal ani¬ 
mosity toward Barron, frankly said that, in his opinion, the 
conduct of the latter since his suspension had been such as to 
forever disqualify him for reinstatement. 

This action on the part of Commodore Decatur led to a 
lengthy correspondence between Barron and himself, which 
extended over several months, and in the course of which 
criminations and recriminations were freely exchanged. The 
final result was the sending of a challenge to Decatur by 
Barron. The meeting was arranged, as has been stated, for 
March 22, 1820, the weapons selected by the challenged party 
being pistols. Decatur was accompanied to the field by a 
surgeon and by his second, Commodore Bainbridge. Commo¬ 
dore Barron’s second was Captain Elliot, and he also had a 
surgeon in his party. The preliminaries having been 
arranged, the fatal signal was given. Both men had grown 
familiar with the use of the chosen weapon in the service of 
their country, and both were expert marksmen. At the word 
of command, they fired simultaneously, the ball from the pis¬ 
tol of each penetrating the body of the other at nearly the 
same spot, and at the same instant. Both fell, one mortally, 
the other severely injured. Decatur had received his death 
wound. He was removed to his house in Washington, where 
he soon afterwards expired, his last intelligible words being a 
condemnation of dueling and the duelist. 

Although Commodore Decatur deprecated the practice of 
dueling upon his deathbed, the affair which cost him his life 
was the fourth of the kind in which he had been engaged. In 
1799, upon the advice of his father, he challenged an officer of 
an Indian ship, lying at Philadelphia. The meeting took 
place near New Castle, Delaware. Decatur wounded his 
antagonist in the hip, but escaped uninjured himself. In 1801, 
while on service in the Mediterranean, he challenged one of 
the officers of a Spanish ship. This matter was arranged with¬ 
out a “meeting.” In 1803 he served as second for Midship¬ 
man Joseph Bainbridge in an encounter with one Cochran, the 
English Secretary at Malta. Knowing his principal to be a 
poor marksman, Decatur insisted that they should fire at four 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


34i 


paces; as a result the Englishman was killed, while Bain- 
bridge escaped uninjured. 

The duel that may be reckoned third among American 
encounters, from the standpoint of the prominence of the prin¬ 
cipals, took place February 24, 1838, in Maryland, not far from 
the national capital. Both of the contestants were members 
of Congress, one being the Hon, Jonathan Cilley of Maine, 
the other the Hon. William J. Graves of Kentucky. Major 
Ben Perley Poore, whose reminiscences of public men are well 
known to most readers, has written the following succinct 
account of this famous and most unnecessary encounter: 

“Mr. Cilley, in, a speech delivered in the House of Repre¬ 
sentatives, criticised a charge of corruption brought against 
some unmarried congressmen in a letter published in the New 
York Courier and Enquirer, over the signature of ‘A Spy in 
Washington,’ and indorsed in the editorial columns of that 
paper. Mr. James Watson Webb, the editor of the Courier 
and Enquirer , immediately visited Washington, and sent a 
challenge to Mr. Cilley by Mr. Graves, with whom he had but 
a slight acquaintance. Mr. Cilley declined to receive the 
hostile communication from Mr. Graves, without making any 
reflection on the personal character of Mr. Webb. Mr. Graves 
felt himself bound by the unwritten code of honor to espouse 
the cause of Mr. Webb, and challenged Mr. Cilley himself. 
The challenge was accepted, and the preliminaries were 
arranged between Mr. Henry A. Wise, as the second of Mr. 
Graves, and Mr. George W. Jones as the second of Mr. 
Cilley. Rifles were selected as the weapons, and Mr. Graves 
found difficulty in obtaining one, but was finally supplied by 
his friend Mr. Rives, of the Globe. The parties met, the 
ground was measured, and the combatants were placed. On 
the third fire Mr. Cilley fell, shot through the body, and died 
almost instantly. Mr. Graves, on seeing his antagonist fall, 
expressed a desire to render him some assistance, but was told 
by Mr. Jones, ‘My friend is dead, sir!’ Mr. Cilley, who left 
a wife and three young children, was a popular favorite, and 
his tragic end caused great excitement all over the country. 
Mr. Webb was generally blamed for having instigated the fatal 


342 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


encounter; certainly, he did not endeavor to prevent it. Mr. 
Graves was never afterward re-elected—indeed, no man who 
has killed another in a duel has ever been elected to office in 
Kentucky.” 

A committee was appointed by the House of Representa¬ 
tives to investigate the matter, and on April 25th they made a 
full report, severely denouncing Mr. Graves for the course he 
had pursued, and recommending that he be expelled from the 
House, but leaving Webb, the real instigator of the whole 
difficulty, to the laws of the country and the effect of public 
opinion, in the concluding paragraph, which is as follows: 

“The committee entertain no doubt that James Watson 
Webb has been guilty of a breach of the privileges of the 
House; but they concur unanimously in the opinion that if 
there be any real ground to believe that a conspiracy to assas¬ 
sinate actually existed, as set forth in that atrocious paper 
drawn up by him, signed by Daniel Jackson and William H. 
Morell, sworn to by the latter, and published in the New York 
Courier and Enquirer , he be left to the chastisement of the 
course of law and of public opinion, and that the House will 
consult its own dignity and the public interest by bestowing 
upon him no further notice. ’ ’ 

Among the numerous duels that occurred in this country 
during the early portion of the present century may be men¬ 
tioned the fatal meeting between General Andrew Jackson 
and Charles Dickinson, which took place May 30, 1806, near 
Adairville, Tennessee. This may be called one of the most 
noteworthy occurrences of the kind in the history of the 
country, both by reason of the distinguished character of the 
combatants and the circumstance that they were “crack 
shots,” and each very desirous of taking the other’s life. 

If the sending of a challenge to engage in a combat to the 
death were ever justifiable, General Jackson was excusable for 
his action. Dickinson had cast serious reflections upon the 
character of Mrs. Jackson, and the fighting spirit of “Old 
Hickory,” which manifested itself later at the battle of New 
Orleans, was thoroughly aroused. Both men were terribly in 
earnest, and both were as cool and collected as if bound on the 


NOTED AMERICAN DUELS 


343 


most pacific errand. On the way to the rendezvous, it is said 
that Dickinson amused his friends by showing his expertness 
with a pistol, putting four bullets into a space that could be 
covered with a silver dollar, at a distance of twenty-four feet. 
It is related that, having severed a cord with a pistol-shot, near 
the tavern where the party had stopped for refreshments, he 
said to the landlord, as he rode away: “If General Jackson 
comes along this way, be kind enough to show him that. ’ ’ 

The duel took place in the morning, and was fought with 
pistols. The weapons were to be held downward until the 
word was given, after which the combatants were to fire as 
soon as they pleased. Dickinson first fired. Jackson raised 
his left arm and held it tightly across his chest. Seeing that 
the general was not disabled, Dickinson cried out: “Great 
God! Have I missed him?” General Jackson attempted to 
return the fire, but the weapon stopped at half-cock. Recock¬ 
ing the pistol, he fired upon the now defenseless man, shooting 
him through the body below the ribs. He died about nine 
o’clock that evening. Dickinson’s bullet had struck Jackson 
in the breast, breaking two of his ribs, but not inflicting a 
dangerous wound. After the affair was over, the general said 
to his second that he would have lived long enough to kill that 
traducer of his wife even if he had been shot through the 
heart. 

The same political dispute that led to the fatal duel between 
Burr and Hamilton led to a meeting between Honorable 
DeWitt Clinton and Honorable John Swartwout, which took 
place near the city of New York. Five shots were exchanged, 
the fourth and fifth wounding Mr. Swartwout; after which his 
opponent declined either to apologize or continue the fight. 

A most noted duel was fought near San Francisco, Sep¬ 
tember 13, 1859, between two famous Californians—Honorable 
David C. Broderick, United States senator, and the Honorable 
David S. Terry, ex-chief-justice of the State. Like Burr and 
Hamilton, Terry and Broderick were bitter political oppo¬ 
nents. They were both Democrats, but leaders of opposing 
wings of that then dominant party. The immediate cause of 
the duel was a speech made by Judge Terry in Sacramento, in 


344 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


which he called Broderick an arch-traitor. The meeting was 
arranged for the 12th of September, at sunrise. The prin¬ 
cipals and their seconds were arrested on the ground, but were 
subsequently discharged, as no actual misdemeanor had been 
committed. The meeting was then arranged for the next 
morning at a place some ten miles from San Francisco. The 
arrangement had gained some publicity, and about eighty 
spectators were present. At the first exchange of shots, 
Broderick fell, mortally wounded. He lingered in great pain 
until September 16th, when he died. His death plunged Cali¬ 
fornia into mourning. No duel on the Pacific coast has ever 
attracted the attention or raised the animosities that this one 
did. 

As already suggested, dueling has fallen into general 
neglect and disgrace in this country, and the sender of a chal¬ 
lenge is either ridiculed or despised—frequently both. Better 
methods and manners have gained the ascendency with us, 
and a return to “the code” cannot be expected. The custom 
was long defended and justified, but a more enlightened senti¬ 
ment has at last prevailed, and the taking of human life under 
the forms of the unwritten laws of society no longer generally 
prevails, except in the most barbarous countries. 


CHAPTER XX 


THE CRONIN CASE 

The entire annals of crime scarcely present a darker page 
than that devoted to the “Cronin Case.” Although nearly a 
decade has elapsed since its commission, this awful murder is 
still vividly remembered by thousands, and it will never be 
forgotten as long as crime flourishes and continues to wield its 
weird fascination over the minds and hearts of men. 

A stranger case has never presented itself. The motives 
were evidently complex; revenge, perverted patriotism, the 
obligations of a secret oath, cupidity, the determination to 
prevent disastrous disclosures—all these considerations were 
apparently present, and all were, seemingly, utilized to impel 
forward those who laid the dark plans and to nerve the hands 
of the heartless, unfeeling wretches who carried them into 
execution. 

The domain of fiction presents no stranger plot, no more 
deliberate and artificial plan for taking the life of a human 
being than appears in this celebrated case. 

The killing of a law-abiding and respected citizen always 
excites horror and detestation, but the dark mystery that for a 
time hung over this awful murder, the unusual motives for its 
commission, and the despicable efforts made to blacken the 
memory of the dead man, aroused the liveliest interest, the 
most intense indignation. Involving, as it did in a manner, 
the organized movement for the amelioration of the people of 
Ireland, the crime became at once an international affair; its 
details were printed in every civilized language on earth and 
eagerly read by the peoples of all nations. 

The “Cronin Case” will doubtless long maintain the posi¬ 
tion it has taken at the head of the class of crimes within 

345 


346 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


which it falls, since perverted ingenuity and lack of human 
conscience can scarcely induce man to go beyond it. 

Philip Patrick Henry Cronin was born at Cork, Ireland, in 
1846, being the youngest of fifteen children, and when seven 
months old was brought to New York City by his parents. 
His father, John Gregg Cronin, removed to St. Catharines, 
Ontario, about 1856, taking Patrick, as he was commonly 
known, with him to Canada, where he received a very good 
education. About 1864 he left St. Catharines and took up his 
abode in Oil City, Pa., where he lived eighteen months, divid¬ 
ing the time between working in a drug store and teaching 
school. Leaving Oil City, he spent some time at Clearfield, 
Pa., and then, about 1868, removed to St. Louis, where he 
secured a position as a shipping clerk. 

But young Cronin was a man of decided ability, and had no 
mind to spend his life in commercial pursuits. He became a 
passenger agent for the St. Louis & Southwestern Railroad, 
and devoted his leisure time to the study of medicine, reading 
law also in connection with his medical studies. In 1878, 
when thirty-two years of age, he graduated in medicine from 
the Missouri Medical College, McDowell University. That 
same year he went to the Paris Exposition as commissioner for 
the State of Missouri. 

Returning to St. Louis, Dr. Cronin began the practice of 
his chosen profession, for which his diligent studies and some 
seven years’ practical experience as a druggist had admirably 
qualified him. In 1882, Dr. Cronin removed to Chicago, 
where he speedily acquired a fine medical practice. He was 
never married, and made his home while in Chicago with T. 
T. Conklin, a liquor dealer who resided at 468 North Clark 
street, and whose acquaintance he had formed in St. Louis. 

Though reared in America, Dr. Cronin never forgot the 
land of his birth. He sympathized strongly with Ireland, and 
early identified himself with various movements looking to the 
relief of his distressed countrymen. Physically and mentally, 
he was a strong man, and carried into Irish affairs the earnest¬ 
ness and rugged honesty which characterized his private and 
professional life. A prominent member of the Irish Nationalist 


THE CRONIN CASE 


347 


party, he was ever watching for fraud and malfeasance. He 
was persistent, combative, even, in his integrity; he knew 
nothing of policy where honesty was concerned, and freely 
denounced fraud and double-dealing whenever and wherever 
they presented themselves. 

Such a man could not choose but make enemies, any more 
than he could avoid making fast and devoted friends among 
those who shared his feelings and aspirations and endorsed his 
methods for honestly administering Irish-American affairs. 
Dr. Cronin was a prominent member of the great Irish society 
known as the Clan-na-Gael, being for some years the Senior 
Guardian of a Chicago camp. At the time of his arrival from 
St. Louis the affairs of the organization were virtually in the 
control of three men, called the “Triangle,” of whom Alex¬ 
ander Sullivan was the recognized head. So secret were the 
affairs of this society kept that very few of its members even 
knew the identity of the national treasurer. 

Under such a state of affairs, fraud, plain theft, was a 
matter easy to compass and tolerably secure from detection. 
Large sums of money were being constantly collected for 
the cause of Ireland, and the disbursements being usually 
secretly and confidentially made, no system of auditing was 
possible, so far as the ordinary members were concerned. Dr. 
Cronin finally discovered, as he claimed, a very serious short¬ 
age in the funds of the organization. He made formal 
charges and pressed them with persistence, bitterness even, 
being a most earnest and aggressive man. 

This led to a break in the Clan-na-Gael, and the formation 
of a rival society, which was followed by the expulsion of the 
doctor, who could not be induced to make any sort of compro¬ 
mise with those whom he believed to be fattening on the 
proceeds of collections made for the relief and freedom of 
Ireland. In 1888 there was a reorganization and a reunion 
of the Clan-na-Gael, but Cronin, instead of returning to the 
fold, continued to make inquiries and press investigations 
of a character most damaging to the “Triangle” and its 
adherents. He was denounced by several camps, and, still 
persisting in his investigations, his death seemed the only 


34§ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


thing calculated to insure the § safety of the parties most 
vitally interested. 

Shortly before eight o’clock on the evening of Saturday, 
May 4, 1889, a top-buggy drawn by a white horse stopped 
before No. 468 North Clark Street, the residence of T. T. 
Conklin. A young man alighted and inquired for Dr. Cronin, 
stating that his services were required by Patrick O’Sullivan, 
an iceman of Lake View, several miles north. He presented 
one of the iceman’s cards, and stated that a man in his employ 
had been very badly injured, and required the immediate 
attendance of a surgeon. Waiting only to secure his surgical 
instruments, the doctor entered the buggy with the young man 
and was driven rapidly away to the northward. He was never 
again seen alive by any of his friends. 

Dr. Cronin was very regular in his habits, and when he did 
not return during the night, Mrs. Conklin became very much 
alarmed. During all the years that he had made his home 
with the Conklins he had never been so long absent from 
home without notifying her of the cause. She also knew of 
the feud with the Clan-na-Gael, and the doctor had con¬ 
fidentially informed her that he feared an effort might, at any 
time, be made upon his life. 

On Sunday morning the absence of the doctor was com¬ 
municated to the police, and the matter was at once connected 
with a circumstance reported by two police officers—Smith and 
Hayden—in Lake View. About two o’clock that morning the 
officers saw a wagon, containing two men and a large trunk, 
being driven very rapidly to the northward. Officer Smith 
attempted to stop the wagon, but the driver did not heed his 
command. About an hour and a half later the officers saw 
the men driving south in the same wagon, which no longer 
contained the trunk. They did not hail the men this time, 
thinking the matter not very unusual. 

About half-past seven on the morning of that day a large 
trunk was found in a ditch on Evanston Avenue, some dis¬ 
tance north of the point where the officers had seen the wagon. 
It was a cheap affair, and when opened was found to contain 
a quantity of absorbent cotton largely saturated with blood, 


THE CRONIN CASE 


349 


the interior of the trunk being spotted with gore. A bunch of 
human hair was also discovered. 

Captain Villiers, of the Lake View police-station, speedily 
satisfied himself that the trunk had very recently contained a 
human body, and decided that afoul murder had been com¬ 
mitted. Learning that Dr. Cronin had been missing since the 
preceding night, he at once advanced the theory, subsequently 
shown to be correct, that the doctor had been murdered, and 
his body carried away in the trunk. 

On Sunday, May 5th, Patrick O’Sullivan, the iceman, 
whose card had been presented to Dr. Cronin the preceding 
evening, stated to some newspaper reporters that he had 
not sent for the doctor; that he had only four men in his 
employ, and that none of them had been injured. He knew 
absolutely nothing about the matter, though he had some 
acquaintance with Dr. Cronin. O’Sullivan sustained a good 
reputation, and not a shadow of suspicion fell upon him at 
this time. 

Dr. Cronin had hosts of friends in Chicago, many of whom 
were identified with the Irish movement, and hence were in 
possession of certain inside facts as to the motives that might 
well have led to his assassination. These men at once decided 
that the doctor had been the victim of foul play, and never 
wavered in this opinion or relaxed their efforts to find his 
body. They knew the nature and desperate situation of his 
enemies, and subsequent developments quite justified their 
seemingly hard conclusions. In the meantime, the country in 
the section where the trunk had been found was diligently 
searched. Ditches were dragged, bushes scrutinized, man¬ 
holes in sewers opened, the surface of the ground, much of 
which was unbroken prairie, carefully searched for evidences 
of a masked grave. The shore of the lake was explored for 
miles for traces of the missing man. 

But the enemies of Cronin were scarcely less active. The 
excitement was every day increasing and the columns of the 
newspapers were well filled with theories and speculations. 
The explanation most persistently advanced was that he had 
quietly departed for London to testify before the Parnell com- 


35° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


mission, then in session there. “Prominent Nationalists,” 
whose names were not given, certified that the much-sought- 
for man had been quite intimate with the spy and informer, 
LeCarron, while the latter was domiciled in Chicago. These 
insinuations were well calculated to deceive, since, like 
Cronin, LeCarron had long been recognized as a friend of 
Ireland—had not, indeed, been seriously suspected until he 
exposed his long career of duplicity by giving his testimony 
in London. 

On May ioth, what were regarded as most important 
developments materialized in the case. A man giving the 
name of Frank Woodruff was arrested on the West Side, being 
in possession of a horse and wagon that seemed to have been 
stolen. The mention of the Cronin case appeared to greatly 
embarrass him, and he finally broke down and made what he 
called a full confession, acknowledging that he had driven the 
wagon that bore away the body of Dr. Cronin, and had 
dumped the blood-stained trunk into the ditch in Lake View. 

Woodruff, or Black, as he called himself at times, proved a 
disturbing element in the investigation, throwing the officers 
off the scent. His stories, which he changed and modified 
from time to time, were of a most sensational character, but, 
as they finally came to nothing, may well be dismissed. 
Woodruff had been guilty of horse-stealing, and was doubtless 
trying to shield himself from the effects of the lesser crime by 
acknowledging complicity in the more heinous one, of which 
he had no fears of being convicted. For a long time he 
puzzled the police and authorities and an effort was finally 
made to connect him with the murder. He was indicted but 
never brought to trial. 

The plan of the conspirators went much further than the 
murder of Dr. Cronin. The undoubted intention was to 
blacken his memory, to convince the world that he was a 
traitor to the Irish cause, a paid spy of the British govern¬ 
ment. The stories connecting the doctor with LeCarron were 
followed by claims that he was alive on the ioth and nth of 
May. A newspaper correspondent in Toronto, Canada, sent 
in reports to the effect that he had seen and interviewed the 


THE CRONIN CASE 


35i 


doctor in that city. He claimed to be bound for France, and 
stated that he had left Chicago because fearful that his life 
would be taken if he remained. 

It seems more than likely that the reporter who sent this 
news to his paper was entirely honest, having been deceived 
by a plausible though false identification of a man sent to 
Toronto to impersonate the murdered physician. 

The plan doubtless was to trace Dr. Cronin to London, 
show him to have been a traitor in the pay of England, and 
have his dead body found there and identified by articles 
which his enemies could readily produce for that purpose. 
Human depravity can hardly be made to go beyond this. Not 
content with taking the life of an upright, earnest, and entirely 
patriotic man, these miscreants aimed to brand him as a 
traitor, to call down upon his name and memory the execra¬ 
tions of the Irish race and the contempt of all right-minded 
men. 

The reports that Dr. Cronin had been seen in Toronto and 
had departed for Europe, supported by the insinuation of his 
enemies that he was a traitor to the cause of Ireland, and had 
departed for the purpose of giving evidence in London, 
coupled with the lack of all success in unraveling the dark 
mystery, tended to discourage the police. A search was still 
maintained, but it was conducted in a half-hearted way, with 
small prospects or hopes of success. Suddenly, unexpectedly, a 
discovery was made that set at rest all doubts, silenced the 
calumnies and falsehoods of enemies, and aroused an excite¬ 
ment almost without precedent in Chicago, an excitement that 
took posesssion of the entire land, and, with the speed of the 
electric telegraph, encompassed the earth. 

On May 22, 1889, the body of Dr. P. H. Cronin was found 
in a Lake View catch-basin. There were six deadly wounds 
upon his head, including three skull fractures. The evidences 
of his brutal murder were plain and unmistakable. When 
found the body was entirely naked. About the head was 
wrapped a towel, while an Agnus Dei, an emblem of Catholic 
devotion, hung around the neck. 

The discovery was made about four o’clock in the afternoon 


35 2 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


by three workmen who were engaged in cleaning sewers in 
that vicinity. The man-hole where it was discovered is 
located a little over half a mile, almost due north, of the place 
where the trunk was found. The body was removed to the 
Lake View police-station, where it was positively identified by 
John J. Cronin, a brother, T. T. Conklin and others. The 
fact of the discovery became speedily known in the city, and 
an almost unprecedented excitement followed. 

The day after the finding of the murdered man’s bloated 
remains a discovery of great importance was made. The 
newspapers had taken a lively interest in the case, and had 
spared no pains to unravel the mystery. Patrick O’Sullivan 
had fallen under some measure of suspicion, principally for the 
reason that he had, some time before, sought an introduction to 
Dr. Cronin for the purpose of employing him by the year to 
attend to any of his employes who might be injured in the 
discharge of their duties. O’Sullivan employed but three or 
four men, and such a contract was a very unusual one for a 
man of his class to make. This made him a subject for 
investigation on the part of the press. 

O’Sullivan lived some two miles from the man-hole from 
which the remains of Dr. Cronin were taken. About one 
hundred and fifty feet from his house was a cottage known as 
1872 Ashland avenue, afterwards spoken of as the “Carlson 
Cottage,’’ from the name of its owner, Jonas Carlson, a 
Swede. Learning that this cottage had been recently occu¬ 
pied in a somewhat irregular way, it was visited on May 23d 
by three reporters, who were horrified at finding blood on the 
front steps and likewise on the sidewalk in front of the house. 
Securing an entrance to the cottage, what appeared to be evi¬ 
dences of a foul crime were plainly apparent. Numerous 
blood-stains were found, which possessed greater significance 
from the circumstance that efforts had been made to obliterate 
them by the free use of brown paint. The conclusion was 
reached that here was the place where Dr. Cronin had met 
his death. 

The police at once took up this most promising clue, and 
State’s Attorney Longenecker, Captain Schuettler of the city 


THE CRONIN CASE 


353 


police, and Captain Wing, of the Lake View police, after a 
hasty consultation, sent for O’Sullivan, who promptly res¬ 
ponded to the summons. 

Pressed by the state’s attorney, the iceman told a plausible 
and seemingly truthful story. He believed that there had 
been something peculiar going on at the Carlson cottage. 
Two suspicious-looking men, he declared, had rented it of 
Carlson in March, claiming that they were to have employ¬ 
ment in connection with his ice business, although they were 
entirely unknown to him. 

The Carlsons, father, mother and son, were next sent for, 
and placed upon the rack, though there was no reason to sus¬ 
pect them of complicity in the crime. The facts elicited were 
substantially as follows: On March 20th a tall, slender young 
man had called on Mrs. Carlson and rented the cottage, paying 
a month’s rent, $12, in advance, and receiving the keys. He 
gave his name as Frank Williams, and stated that a sister, 
who was to act as housekeeper, and two brothers, were coming 
in a few days from Baltimore, and would occupy the house 
with him. These relatives never appeared. 

Three days later, about seven o’clock in the evening, some 
articles of furniture were brought to the cottage by an express- 
man, whose identity was not learned by the Carlson’s, though 
it was ascertained by Charles Carlson, the son, that he was a 
Swede. Weeks passed and the little house remained unoccu¬ 
pied. On April 20th the tenant called again and paid another 
month’s rent. The Carlsons asked why the cottage had not 
been occupied, saying that it did not look well to see it stand¬ 
ing vacant. Williams replied that his sister had been detained, 
but that they would take possession in a few days. 

On May 13th, when Dr. Cronin had been more than a week 
missing, a short, stout, light-haired man called on the 
Carlsons. He stated that Frank Williams had sent him to 
pay the rent, and added that his sister was sick and that he 
could not take possession for some time. The suspicions of 
Mrs. Carlson had been aroused by this peculiar method of pay¬ 
ing rent in advance for an unoccupied house, and she declined 
to receive the money; nor could the man induce her to do so. 


354 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


On May 18th a letter, posted at Hammond, Indiana, was 
delivered to Mr. Carlson. It was signed “F. W.,” and noti¬ 
fied the landlord that he could not use the cottage, and asked 
him to store the furniture in the place in his own basement, 
stating that he would call soon and pay him for his trouble. 
An investigation alarmed and astonished the Carlsons, but, 
instead of notifying the police, they waited for the appearance 
of their mysterious tenant. 

At this point O’Sullivan was connected with the plot. The 
day Williams left his house with the keys, Jonas Carlson heard 
him say to the iceman: “Well, the cottage is rented.” When 
the second month’s rent was almost due, Carlson asked 
O’Sullivan if he knew Williams, to which the iceman replied: 
“Yes, I know one of the men. He is all right.” O’Sullivan 
also stated that he would himself be responsible for one 
month’s rent, if Williams did not appear and promptly pay it. 
On the evening of May 4th the old man had seen Williams 
standing on the front steps, and later had heard two men talk¬ 
ing loudly in the front room of the cottage. 

An investigation on the part of the police showed that the 
furniture found in the cottage, which was meagre in quantity, 
together with a large trunk, had been purchased of A. H. 
Re veil & Co., on February 19 th, by a young man who gave the 
name of J. B. Simonds, William T. Hatfield, an old employ^, 
making the sale. The furniture was delivered at rooms 12 
and 15, No. 117 South Clark street. This was directly across 
the street from the Chicago Opera House building, where 
both Dr. Cronin and Alexander Sullivan occupied offices. 

On the day when Simonds purchased the furniture, he 
rented the two offices at No. 117 South Clark street, paying 
a month’s rent, $42, in advance. On March 20th, when a rep¬ 
resentative of the landlord called to collect the next month’s 
rent, he found the doors locked, the furniture and trunk hav¬ 
ing been removed. 

The last doubt that might have lingered in the minds of the 
police as to Dr. Cronin having been murdered in the Carlson 
cottage was dispelled by new and most important and start¬ 
ling revelations made by William Mertes, a milkman of good 


THE CRONIN CASE 


355 

reputation, who lived on Woodside Avenue in Lake View, now 
a part of the city of Chicago. 

On the evening of May 4th, between eight-thirty and nine 
o’clock, as Mertes was passing the Carlson cottage, a buggy, 
drawn by a white horse and containing two men, stopped in 
front of the house. A tall man alighted and ran rapidly up the 
steps. The door was opened before he had knocked, and the 
visitor at once entered. It had scarcely closed when the milk¬ 
man heard loud and seemingly angry voices proceeding from 
the dwelling. In the meantime, the remaining occupant of 
the vehicle, whose face Mertes was not able to see, drove 
rapidly away. The details of a fiendish and most complicated 
plot were now well exposed, and naught remained but to arrest 
and bring the murderers to justice. 

The city was now searched for the expressman who had 
removed the furniture and trunk from No. 117 South Clark 
street to the Carlson cottage. For some time not a clue was 
discovered, but after about two weeks’ work the detectives 
found the man in the person of a Swede, named Hukon 
Mortensen. He had been employed by a man whose name he 
did not learn, but whose description tallied exactly with that 
given by the Carlsons of Frank Williams, to remove a lot of 
furniture from No. 117 South Clark street to the Carlson cot¬ 
tage, and had so removed it. Williams and another man 
brought the furniture out of the Clark-street building, and the 
former assisted Mortensen in carrying it into the cottage. 

Iceman O’Sullivan had now fallen under great suspicion. 
He was not arrested, but was placed under strict surveillance, 
his every movement being closely and secretly watched. 

So far an elaborate, far-reaching scheme had been devel¬ 
oped, yet the plot went much further and included men of 
good standing in Chicago. It even invaded the police depart¬ 
ment, and involved officers who were paid to act as the con¬ 
servators of the peace, and to ferret out crimes. Called forth 
in the night to exercise his art as a surgeon in the alleviation 
of human suffering and distress, humane Dr. Cronin was 
drawn to his death by a white horse. This horse became the 
objective point of many inquiries, and its discovery proved the 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


356 

disgraceful exposure of a trusted member of the Chicago police 
force. 

At the time of the Cronin murder, Daniel Coughlin was a 
city detective attached to the East Chicago Avenue Police 
Station, then under the direction of Captain Michael J. 
Schaack. Coughlin was one of the men detailed to run down 
the murderers, yet, instead of doing this, he contrived, by 
every means in his power, to throw the authorities off the 
track of the criminals. Daniel Coughlin was identified with 
the National Irish movement, and a prominent member of 
Camp Twenty of the Clan-na-Gael, in the councils of which 
the plot is supposed to have originated. 

At No. 260 North Clark street, Patrick Dinan maintained a 
livery-stable. Coughlin knew Dinan well, and, on the morn¬ 
ing of May 4th, called upon the latter and said: “I want you 
to keep a rig in readiness for a friend of mine to-night, and I 
don’t want you to say a word about it. When he calls for it 
give it to him, and I’ll be responsible for it. ” 

About seven o’clock that evening the detective’s “friend” 
called at the livery-stable as arranged, and announced that he 
had come for the horse ordered by Dan Coughlin. In response 
to this, Dinan ordered a white horse to be hitched to a buggy 
for the use of the customer. To this the latter protested 
vigorously, a white horse evidently not being to his liking. 
But the liveryman was obdurate, and the evidently-impatient 
friend of the detective accepted the “Hobson’s choice,” and 
drove away with the white horse. Shortly before nine-thirty 
he returned, drove into the barn, and, without waiting to 
speak with the hostler, who was in another part of the build¬ 
ing, quitted the place. 

The white horse preyed upon Dinan’s mind, and two or 
three days after the discovery of Dr. Cronin’s body he left his 
stable with the intention of laying the matter before Captain 
Schaack. On the steps of the station-house he met the man 
most vitally interested, Officer Daniel Coughlin, who anx¬ 
iously inquired his business. Informed that the visit con¬ 
cerned the white horse, the detective became plainly excited, 
and exclaimed: “Look here, there is no use making a fuss 


THE CRONIN CASE 


357 


about this matter. You keep quiet about it. Me and Cronin 
were enemies, as lots of people know, and it might get me into 
trouble. Keep it to yourself, Dinan.” 

The liveryman assented, yet so strong was his mental 
reservation that he hastened to lay the entire matter before 
Captain Schaack, whom he chanced to meet. Instead of 
ordering Coughlin under arrest or acquainting the chief of 
police with the most important information, Schaack sent for 
the detective and frankly told him the story he had heard, at 
the same time asking for an explanation. 

Coughlin had a ready-made story at hand. He had indeed 
engaged a horse from Dinan for a man named Smith, who had 
come to the station and introduced himself as a friend of the 
officer’s brother at Hancock, Michigan. Beyond this he pro¬ 
tested that he knew nothing. Schaack seems to have been 
deceived by this very artificial story, and simply told Coughlin 
to find Smith and bring him to the station. 

While Detective Daniel Coughlin, assisted by Detective 
Michael Whalen, a cousin of O’Sullivan, was looking for the 
mythical Smith, Captain Schaack undertook a little investiga¬ 
tion on his own account. He exhibited the horse and buggy 
to Mrs. Conklin. She was not very emphatic in her identifica¬ 
tion and Schaack afterwards claimed that she had utterly failed 
to recognize it. This the lady denied, claiming that she had 
told him it was remarkably like the one in which Dr. Cronin 
had been driven away from her flat. 

While Schaack was temporizing, Dinan resolved to act and 
called upon Chief of Detectives Horace Elliott, to whom he 
stated the case. As a result, Coughlin was brought before 
Mayor Cregier Chief Hubbard, Col. W. P. Rend, and several 
other gentlemen, and rigidly examined for two hours. His 
answers were unsatisfactory and evasive, and he was sent to 
the armory police-station in a patrol wagon. At the same 
time, Detective Michael Whalen was suspended for neglect of 
duty. 

The next day Coughlin’s friend Smith appeared at police 
headquarters. He had known the detective at Hancock, 
Michigan, and had called on him recently at the police-station, 


358 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


but had said nothing about securing a horse. The detective’s 
explanation thus fell ingloriously to the ground. 

In the meantime, a strong net had been woven around 
Patrick O’Sullivan, and on May 27th he was placed under 
arrest. Warrants against him and Coughlin were sworn out 
by John Joseph Cronin, the murdered physician’s brother, and 
both of them were imprisoned in the county jail. On May 
28th the grand jury indicted Coughlin, O’Sullivan, and 
Whalen. They were formally arraigned before Judge Wil¬ 
liamson on May 31st, and remanded for trial. 

The investigation of the coroner began on May 28th, and 
occupied eight days. It was one of the most sensational 
inquests ever held in the country, and excited world-wide 
interest. The facts already set forth were clearly established, 
and some new evidence of importance elicited. Coughlin and 
O’Sullivan were directly connected, it being shown that for 
some time before the eventful 4th of May they had held daily 
communication over the telephone. Evidence tending to 
show a conspiracy on the part of certain members of the 
Clan-na-Gael to take Dr. Cronin’s life, was introduced, besides 
many things showing the animus of Alexander Sullivan, 
whom Cronin had accused of misappropriating funds raised 
for the Irish cause. Alexander Sullivan’s speculations were 
also investigated, and it was shown that he had lost large 
sums of money on the Board of Trade. Luke Dillon, one of 
the nine members of the executive committee of the Clan-na- 
Gael in America, was particularly bitter in his denunciation of 
Sullivan, declaring that he had a decided interest in silencing 
the tongue of Dr. Cronin, who was in a fair way to expose his 
thefts and other crimes. 

The jury recommended that Alexander Sullivan, Patrick 
O’Sullivan, Daniel Coughlin, and Frank Woodruff, alias Black, 
be held to the grand jury as principals in, or accessories to, the 
murder of Patrick Henry Cronin. That night Alexander Sulli¬ 
van was arrested in his bed and imprisoned in the county jail. 

The arrest of this man proved a sensation second only to 
the discovery of the mutilated and decomposing remains of 
Dr. Cronin, and widespread satisfaction was manifested, the 


THE CRONIN CASE 


359 


general opinion being that a blow had been struck at the root 
of the entire diabolical conspiracy. But the joy of lovers and 
upholders of the law was a short life. The following day the 
prisoner was brought before Chancellor Tuley, who admitted 
him to bail. 

To the alertness and sagacity of John Collins, an Irish - 
American member of the Chicago police force, the connection 
of Martin Burke with the conspiracy was first suspected. 
Burke had been looked upon for some time as a tool of the 
Clan-na-Gael. He had become a member of the notorious 
Camp Twenty, and, through the aid of John F. Beggs, a 
lawyer afterwards involved in the plot, and that of Alexander 
Sullivan, obtained employment in the city sewer department. 
He frequented the low saloons of the North Side, and had 
been frequently heard to denounce Cronin as a British spy who 
ought to be “removed.” These points attracted the attention 
of Officer Collins, and he became convinced that Burke had 
been connected with the murder. 

Human life often turns upon seeming trifles, and an almost 
forgotten photograph led to the identification and subsequent 
arrest of Martin Burke. Some years before, a plot of land in 
Mount Olivet cemetery was dedicated as the last resting-place 
of Irish Nationalists. Upon this occasion a large group- 
photograph of many Clan-na-Gaels was taken, in which the 
form and face of Burke appeared. Officer Collins secured 
from the photographer who had taken the negative a copy of 
this picture, which he exhibited in turn to the three Carlsons 
and Hukon Mortensen, the expressman. All of these persons 
unhesitatingly selected Martin Burke in the picture as a por¬ 
trait of the man who, under the name of Frank Williams, had 
rented the cottage and caused the furniture to be removed 
there from the offices on Clark Street. 

But the bird had flown. A search, which proved fruitless, 
was at once instituted, but the officers were too late to appre¬ 
hend the much-wanted man. The last trace found of him in 
Chicago was on the day of Dr. Cronin’s funeral. He had 
exhibited quite a large sum of money and talked vaguely 
about making a trip to Ireland. 


3<5° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Weeks passed when, late one night, Chief Hubbard 
received the following dispatch: 

“Winnipeg, Man., June 16, 1889.—Martin Burke, alias 
Delaney, arrested here on suspicion of complicity in the Cronin 
case. He was boarding the Atlantic Express, and had a ticket 
for Liverpool, England. McRae.” 

To this Chief Hubbard sent the following reply: 

“Chicago, Ills., June 16, 1889.—Hold Martin Burke, alias 
Delaney, by all means. Will send officer immediately.” 

Burke had been arrested upon descriptions sent out by 
Chief Hubbard. At the time he was traveling under the name 
of W. J. Cooper. In a short time Officer Collins arrived, and 
soon after Expressman Mortensen, in charge of Officer J. M. 
Broderick. Fifty prisoners were brought forth, from whom the 
expressman speedily selected the suspect as Martin Burke. 

That Burke had powerful friends was soon manifested. 
The best legal counsel was secured, and every effort made to 
prevent his extradition. But money proved powerless, and he 
was brought back to Chicago, where an .indictment was 
promptly returned against him. 

Before Martin Burke left Chicago, he had employed a tin¬ 
smith to seal up an oblong tin box. The clothing and surgical 
instruments of Dr. Cronin had not been found, and the belief 
gained ground that the general plot contemplated their ship¬ 
ment to Europe, that they might be there used to prove that 
the victim had arrived there, thus tending to establish the 
theory of the conspirators that he was a traitor to the Irish 
cause. 

There is little doubt that this was the plan decided upon, 
for the tin box really contained the missing effects of the 
murdered physician. The discovery of the body doubtless 
changed the plans, which could not longer be made effective. 
Nearly six months after the murder, and while the trial was in 
progress, November 8, 1889, the long-searched-for tin box was 
found in a sewer, beneath a man-hole at the corner of Evan¬ 
ston and Buena avenues, a mile and a quarter southeast of 
where the body had been discovered in May. It contained the 


THE CRONIN CASE 


361 


clothing, surgical instruments and various other effects of the 
dead man, which were positively identified. His gold watch 
and well-filled purse were missing, which proved that the 
“patriotic murderers” were not above plain stealing. The 
discovery of the box and contents formed new and strong links 
in the chains drawn around the accused men. 

A special grand jury met before Judge Shepard on June 
12th, and indictments were returned against John F. Beggs, 
lawyer and Senior Guardian of Camp Number Twenty, Daniel 
Coughlin, Patrick O’Sullivan, Martin Burke, F. J. Woodruff, 
alias Black, John Kunze, and Patrick Cooney, alias “The 
Fox.” 

Strong efforts were made to include Alexander Sullivan in 
the list, but the evidence was regarded as insufficient to secure 
his conviction, and he escaped. The now notorious “Camp 
Twenty” was rigorously investigated. It appeared that 
Cronin had been repeatedly and vigorously denounced in this 
camp by Coughlin, O’Sullivan, Cooney, Burke and others, the 
claim being made that, like LeCarron, he was a British spy. 
It is not at all unlikely that some of the men afterwards impli¬ 
cated in the most awful crime of recent years, were led to 
believe that these charges were true, and that a feeling of false 
patriotism was called into action to accomplish the murder of 
the man who stood in the way of those who had directed the 
affairs of the Irish National party and stolen its funds. At 
length, John F. Beggs appointed a secret trial committee. 
Late in February it held several meetings, and at that time, it 
is supposed, the death of Dr. Cronin was decided upon. 

Kunze was a German who had been under the protection of 
Dan Coughlin for some time. He was identified by the milk¬ 
man, Mertes, as the man who drove Dr. Cronin to the Carlson 
cottage on the night of May 4th, and at the time it was 
believed that he was as guilty as the rest. Cooney, “The 
Fox,” was not arrested, but is said to be in Chicago at the 
present writing. 

The parties indicted for the murder of Dr. Cronin were 
arraigned on August 30, 1889, less than four months after the 
day when the crime was committed. The trial was held 


362 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


before Judge S. P. McConnell, Joel M. Longenecker being the 
state’s attorney. The best obtainable legal talent had been 
retained to prosecute and defend. Associated with the state’s 
attorney were Luther Laflin Mills, George C. Ingham, and 
William J. Hynes. Coughlin was represented by attorneys 
Forrest and Wing; O’Sullivan and Kunze by Messrs. Dona¬ 
hue and David, while Senator Kennedy of Wisconsin and 
Messrs. Foote and Foster appeared for Martin Burke. 

A long time was consumed in securing a jury, every man 
being most searchingly examined. The men who had planned 
the dastardly murder were not above disreputable methods, 
and, on the thirty-seventh day of the trial—or rather, of the 
efforts to secure a jury—a jury-bribing plot was laid bare 
before the court. The attempt to pack the jury seemed to be 
far-reaching. Six men were involved: Thomas Kavanaugh, 
steamfitter; Alexander L. Hanks, court-bailiff; Mark L. 
Solomon, court-bailiff; Fred W. Smith, hardware agent; 
Jeremiah O’Donnell, gauger; Joseph Kouen, fruit dealer. 
These were at once indicted by the grand jury. Later a true 
bill was found against John Graham, confidential clerk of A. 
S. Trude, a prominent attorney. Graham was supposed to 
have been the ring-leader in the enterprise, the real represent¬ 
ative of the parties who supplied the money. None of these 
wretches were ever adequately punished. 

The case against the defendants, as already set forth, was 
reinforced in many particulars, the testimony of a poor 
washerwoman, Paulina Hoertel, being especially forceful. 
On the night of May 4th, she saw the buggy drive up to the 
Carlson cottage; saw a tall man, presumably Dr. Cronin, alight 
and enter the house. He carried a black satchel or box in his 
left hand. The man who remained in the buggy drove the 
white horse rapidly away. Scarcely had the door closed when 
she heard a loud voice from within the cottage cry: “Oh, 
God!’’ Then there was a noise, what seemed to her like the 
sound of a blow, and a heavy fall. Then she heard the 
exclamation, “Jesus!”. “I heard the far-away cry of Jesus,” 
was the way the interpreter rendered her words. 

As strong a defense was made as the circumstances of the 


THE CRONIN CASE 


363 


case admitted, alibis being the line principally relied upon. 
But in view of the awful chain of facts that had been forged 
by the State, it seemed lamentably weak. 

The rebuttal evidence for the State proved strongly sensa¬ 
tional, a matter that had just come to light being presented 
with great force. This was introduced on Friday, November 
29th. On the preceding day Barney Flynn, a city detective 
who had arrested Coughlin, told Chief Hubbard that upon 
searching Coughlin at the station he had found two pocket 
knives, which had since been carefully kept. Both of these 
knives were positively identified by T. T. Conklin as having 
belonged to Dr. Cronin. As to one of them he was absolutely 
certain, since he had himself carried it for two years and then 
given it to Cronin. The other one he had found in the street 
some nine months before and carried home. This knife had 
struck the doctor’s fancy, and he had appropriated it to his 
own uses, carrying it in his vest pocket. 

The arguments of counsel occupied several days, and were 
presented with great force. The judge delivered a lengthy 
charge, and, on Friday, December 13, 1889, the jury retired 
to consider its verdict. The jury did not report until the 
afternoon of Monday, December 16th, having been locked up 
over seventy hours. It was afterwards ascertained that one 
member of the jury, John Culver, had held out against the 
other eleven to secure a sentence of imprisonment for life. 
The verdict was as follows: 

“We, the jury, find the defendant Kunze guilty of man¬ 
slaughter as charged in the indictment, and fix his punishment 
at imprisonment in the penitentiary for a term of three years. 

“We, the jury, find the defendants, Daniel Coughlin, 
Patrick O’Sullivan and Martin Burke, guilty of murder in the 
manner and form as charged in the indictment, and fix the 
penalty at imprisonment in the penitentiary for the term of 
their natural lives. ’ ’ 

This verdict failed to find popular favor. If Coughlin, 
Burke and O’Sullivan were guilty of the awful crime of 
murdering Dr. Cronin, they should, in popular estimation, 
have expiated it upon the scaffold. Feeling ran high against 


364 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Juror Culver, and charges of bribery were freely made, which, 
as a matter of course, he indignantly denied, bringing a libel 
suit against one Chicago newspaper. 

Failing to secure a new trial in the court below, an appeal 
was taken and the convicted parties removed to the peniten¬ 
tiary at Joliet. Upon a review of the case by the Supreme 
Court, a new trial was ordered, and Daniel Coughlin was 
brought back to Chicago and placed in jail. Burke and 
O’Sullivan had completed the exact terms of their sentence, 
both having died in prison before the opinion of the court was 
handed down. 

On December 6, 1893, a jury was secured before Judge 
Richard Tuthill, and the second trial of Daniel Coughlin for 
the murder of Dr. P. H. Cronin was formally begun. A full 
jury had been secured on November 24th, but three of its 
members were afterwards disqualified, as a result of charges 
of bribery and irregularity, and considerable time was con¬ 
sumed in filling their places. The State was represented by 
Elisha S. Bottum and Kickham Scanlon, while Daniel Dona¬ 
hue and Judge Wing appeared for the defendant. 

Although less than four years had elapsed since the first 
trial, many of the witnesses could not be produced; several of 
them were dead, while a still larger number had disappeared. 
This greatly hampered the State. At the same time new and 
cumulative evidence was introduced which seemed to decidedly 
strengthen the case. 

Milkman Mertes, who had with great difficulty been 
located in the far North and brought back to Chicago, testified 
that about eight o’clock on the night of May 4, 1889, he saw a 
buggy, drawn by a dark horse, drive up to the Carlson cot¬ 
tage. A large man, wearing a dark brown overcoat, sprang 
out and hurried up the steps, unlocking the door with a key. 

“Did you ever see either of these men again?” the witness 
was asked. 

“Yes,” he replied. 

“Where?” 

“There he is sitting, one of the fellows.” 

The milkman pointed to the defendant Coughlin, and a 


THE CRONIN CASE 365 

buzz of excitement ran through the court-room at this bit of 
most important and sensational testimony. 

Mertes freely admitted that he had told many lies about the 
case, but, being now under oath, stoutly maintained that he 
was telling the truth. To candid minds an element of doubt 
must attach to this testimony. Why did Mertes not tell this 
story upon the first trial? In view of the verdict rendered, it 
is certain that the jury placed little credence in his statement. 

Equally sensational testimony was given by Frank Bar¬ 
deen. He was an engineer and for some time previous to May 
1, 1889, had been in charge, as engineer, of the Edgewater 
electric light plant. He had left the place on May 1st, but 
called there on the night of May 4th. The man he sought was 
not there, so he sat down upon the steps. While there he saw 
a wagon being driven north on Evanston avenue, no great 
distance away. One man was driving the horse, while another 
was walking behind the wagon, in which was a large box, a 
tool chest, he took it to be at the time. 

Near where Bardeen sat was a thirty-two candle power 
incandescent lamp in a locomotive head-light reflector. He 
turned this search-light upon the wagon and recognized in the 
man on foot the defendant Daniel Coughlin, whom he knew by 
sight. Bardeen could not swear to the exact time, but thought 
it was between one and two o’clock on the morning of May 
5 th that he saw Coughlin walking behind the wagon. 

The testimony of this witness was somewhat shaken by the 
rigid cross-examination of Judge Wing. Bardeen stated that 
he saw the moon about four o’clock that morning while on his 
way home, whereas, as the State was forced to admit, the 
moon set on the night of May 4th before 11:38 o’clock. This 
mistake, no doubt, had the effect of greatly weakening the 
engineer’s testimony in the minds of the jury. 

Probably the strongest, because apparently the most truth¬ 
ful, of all the new testimony introduced was that of Mrs. 
Lizzie Foy. Her husband, Andrew Foy, was an Irish 
Nationalist prominently identified with the Clan-na-Gael, and 
had an undoubted connection with the plot which had its 
consummation in the “removal” of Dr. Cronin. She knew 


366 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


many things bearing on the case, and finally, as a matter of 
conscience, was impelled to make a clean breast of the whole 
affair. Great efforts were* made to prevent her from testify¬ 
ing, both by objections in court and threats and persecutions 
outside; indeed, for a long time she was furnished with police 
protection. 

Her testimony was clear, distinct and of a decidedly incrim¬ 
inating character. Her house was visited by various mem¬ 
bers of the band of murderers. Coughlin, “Cooney the 
Fox,” Martin Burke and some others were there at different 
times before May 4, 1889; Coughlin a number of times. 

Andrew Foy was a member of Camp Twenty, a deadly foe 
of Dr. Cronin, and an intimate friend of Coughlin, Cooney 
and Burke. According to Mrs. Foy’s testimony, the details 
of the plot were discussed in her house. She overheard 
enough to make it clear that some one was to be put to death, 
and that instructions had been received to that effect. On the 
night of the fateful May 4th, Andrew Foy went out early, 
before eight o’clock, and did not return until the following 
morning, when he stated that he had assisted in removing 
another Irish informer. Subsequently, Foy made a confession 
to his wife, giving all the details of the plot and the execution 
of the crime. 

She swore that on the twelfth of May following the murder, 
about seven o’clock in the evening, Daniel Coughlin came to 
her house asking for her husband, who was not at home. 
Then she continued: 

“I said, Andy is out all day; I say I am uneasy about him; 
I’m afraid he has got arrested; I say he ought to be coming 
home. He knows I wait dinner for him. He said: He will 
be all right. He said: there’s no proof against Andy. He 
will be all right, he won’t be arrested; he will turn up all right. 
I said: This is a bad thing you have done; better you had left 
Dr. Cronin alone; he will do more harm dead than alive. He 
said: Don’t let anybody hear you talking like that; don’t talk 
like that. 

“I says: I am getting uneasy, I am worried about Andy. 
What am I to do with my seven children? He said: You will 


THE CRONIN CASE 


367 


be all right, you will be taken care of, you will be well looked 
after. I said: Who will look after me and my seven children? 
He said: Alexander Sullivan is a good friend of your hus¬ 
band’s, and a good friend of mine. He will look after you all 
right. ’ ’ 

Mrs. Foy was examined and cross-examined at great 
length, and it is impossible to present even an outline of her 
testimony. She was attacked by the defense, and an effort 
made to show that she had been influenced to testify as she 
did by Mrs. T. T. Conklin. Those who saw her on the wit¬ 
ness stand and heard her tell her sad story, which was often 
interrupted with tears, were well convinced that she spoke 
truly. 

Taken altogether, a strong case was presented by the 
State, though it would appear that too much was attempted 
in the way of new testimony, which was more or less dis¬ 
credited because it had not been brought forward on the first 
trial. After being out only six hours the jury brought in a 
verdict of not guilty. 

It is difficult to understand how the jury reached the ver¬ 
dict they did. It was openly charged that they had been 
“fixed,” and it seems not unlikely that some corrupt influence 
was employed, though to what extent it was carried it is 
impossible to even conjecture. Nearly five years had elapsed 
since the commission of the crime, and popular indignation 
had somewhat subsided; besides, as already suggested, it was 
impossible to produce all the witnesses who testified on the 
former trial. 

A stronger case of circumstantial evidence has seldom been 
presented than was brought against Daniel Coughlin and his 
associates in crime. That the murder of Dr. Cronin was the 
result of the persistency with which he followed up Alexander 
Sullivan and some of his associates, cannot be doubted by any 
candid man who reads the testimony given on the two trials, 
though it seems most probable that some of the actors in the 
fearful tragedy were led to believe that he was a traitor who 
stood in the way of the cause of Ireland. 

Taken for all in all, the results of the long prosecution 


368 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


were far from satisfactory. Two of the assassins died in 
prison, it is true, but many of the conspirators escaped all 
punishment, except the almost universal scorn of their fellows. 
As for Daniel Coughlin, he opened a saloon in one of the prin¬ 
cipal down-town streets of Chicago, and has prospered far 
beyond his deserts. 



DR. CRONIN ENTERING THE CARLSON COTTAGE.—PAGE 355. 

















































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CHAPTER XXI 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 

A fearful crime, actuated by hatred of the law and the 
republican institutions of America, and carried into operation 
through the obligations of a secret oath, was perpetrated 
in Chicago, on the night of May 4, 1886. The details of 
this most sanguinary affair, which has passed into history 
as the “Haymarket Massacre,” are still fresh in the minds 
of many, but a book which deals with the great homicides 
of the world would hardly be complete without some 
account of it. 

For many years the socialists had been gaining in numbers 
in Chicago. The labor riots of 1877 gave them an oppor¬ 
tunity to perfect organizations which had been languishing for 
a long time. The police forcibly dispersed a meeting called 
at the Voerwaerts Turner Hall, for the apparent purpose of 
inciting men to riot, and in doing so incurred the decided 
enmity of an organization whose members, under the best 
conditions, have no very friendly feeling, either for the law or 
its representatives. Few of these men were anarchists. 
Socialism and anarchy are two widely different things. The 
first, in its theoretical purity, looks to a more orderly arrange¬ 
ment of society than at present exists, while the latter 
arrogantly demands the abolition of all law. At the same 
time, socialism is the training-school in which anarchists are 
educated; indeed, but for the one, the other would speedily 
die out through lack of members. -By 1886 a large number of 
anarchists were domiciled in the metropolis of the west, and 
grave fears for the safety of the city were entertained by the 
authorities. The conditions were most favorable for riot and 
disorder. During the winter of 1885 and 1886 a labor agita- 

369 


37 o 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


tion to secure for the working class an eight-hour day, was in 
progress in all parts of the country. It was proposed to carry 
this into effect May i, 1886. A general strike seemed immi¬ 
nent, and, all over the land, capital and labor were closely 
watching each other’s movements. Two organs, devoted to 
anarchy, were at that time published in Chicago: the Arbeiter 
Zeitung , edited by August Spies, and the Alarm , edited by A. 
R. Parsons. These two men were recognized leaders of the 
anarchists, and with them was included Samuel Fielden and 
some others. 

For some time before the day set for the general strikes of 
organized labor, May 1, 1886, there had been a strike in the 
great McCormick Reaper Works, on Blue Island avenue, or 
the ‘ ‘ Black Road, ” as it was designated by the workingmen. It 
was here that the anarchist leaders saw their opportunity, and 
endeavored by all possible means in their power to inflame the 
passions of men already smarting under what they doubtless 
thought rank injustice. Warned by incendiary articles in the 
Arbeit er Zeitung and the Alarm , the police were expecting an 
organized outbreak against capital, and were using every 
means to be prepared to meet it. On the afternoon of May 
2d, the “Black Road’’ was the scene of a singular spectacle—a 
company of anarchists marching along with the American flag 
reversed. They were as desperate a body of men as ever 
assembled in this country, and were speedily reinforced by 
large numbers of the strikers. Halting on the prairie in 
front of the McCormick works, August Spies made a highly 
inflammatory speech, which resulted in an assault upon the 
works, the destruction of considerable property and the injury 
of a number of non-union workmen, who were employed there 
in place of the strikers. Only six police officers were on duty 
to oppose a mob of three thousand enraged strikers and 
anarchists. A call for assistance brought about thirty 
officers, who charged the mob and succeeded in dispersing it, 
but not until one striker had been killed by a bullet from a 
revolver, and several seriously injured. This encounter was 
the direct cause of the bloody scenes we are called upon to 
recount. That night an anarchist circular, printed in English 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 


37i 


and German, was widely circulated. The German version 
differed somewhat from the other, being a little more pro¬ 
nounced, and was addressed to well-known anarchists and 
socialists. The English portion was as follows: 

“REVENGE! 

“Revenge, workingmen! to arms! Your masters sent out 
their bloodhounds—the police. They killed six of your broth¬ 
ers at McCormick’s this afternoon. They killed the poor 
wretches because they, like you, had the courage to disobey 
the supreme will of your bosses. They killed them because 
they dared to ask for the shortening of the hours of toil. 
They killed them to show you, ‘free American citizens,’ that 
you must be satisfied and contented with whatever your bosses 
condescend to allow you, or you’ll get killed. You have for 
years endured the most abject humiliation; you have for years 
suffered immeasurable iniquities; you have worked yourselves 
to death; you have endured the pangs of want and hunger; 
your children you have sacrificed to the factory lords—in short, 
you have been miserable, obedient slaves all these years. 
Why? To satisfy the insatiable greed, to fill the coffers of your 
lazy, thieving master. When you ask them now to lessen your 
burden, he sends his bloodhounds out to shoot you, kill you. 
If you are men, if you are the sons of your grandsires who 
have shed their blood to free you, then you will rise in your 
might, Hercules, and destroy the hideous monster that seeks 
to destroy you. To arms, we call you! To arms! 

“Your Brothers.’’ 

In addition to this a circular was distributed calling a 
meeting of workingmen at the Haymarket, on the night of 
May 4th, and urging men to go there armed. What is known 
as the “Haymarket’’ is a section of West Randolph street, 
about a fourth of a mile from the Chicago River. Here, for 
two blocks, the street is very wide, and is used as a public 
market. In the olden time, large quantities of hay were sold 
there, which gave the place its name. The circular was as 
follows: 


372 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


ATTENTION WORKINGMEN ! 


—GREAT— 

MASS MEETING 

To-night , at 7:30 o'clock , 

—AT THE— 

Haymarket, Randolph St ., Between Despiaines and Halsted, 
Good speakers will be present to denounce the latest atrocious act of the 
police, the shooting of our fellow-workmen yesterday afternoon. 

Workingmen, Arm Yourselves and Appear in Full Force! 

THE EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE. 

After a portion of the circular had been printed, Spies 
caused the words “Workingmen, arm yourselves and appear in 
full force,” to be stricken out, and several thousand were 
printed without this sentence. Spies said upon the trial that 
he did this because he feared it might be the means of keeping 
people away. In the Arbeiter Zeitung appeared the letter 
“Y,” meaning Ypsilon, which was afterwards shown to be the 
agreed signal for the armed anarchists to turn out in force. 
In the “Letter Box” of the same paper appeared the word 
“Ruhe,” which conveyed to all organized anarchists the infor¬ 
mation that the time for revolution had come. 

When it is understood that for months past these two 
organs of the anarchists had abounded in revolutionary 
articles, denouncing the law and advocating the use of force, 
the responsibility of the men who wrote and circulated such 
articles seems, to the mind of the layman, well established. 

At the appointed time the meeting, destined to mark an 
epoch in the history of anarchy, was called to order. It was 
not held in the Haymarket proper, but in Despiaines street, 
just north of Randolph Street. A wagon had been pressed 
into use as a platform. Not much more than a hundred yards 
south of this wagon was located the Despiaines street police- 
station. Here a large force of police officers had been con¬ 
centrated, the authorities fearing a serious outbreak. Spies 
was the first speaker. The following extract is from a short¬ 
hand report of his speech, proved at the trial to be correct: 



THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 


373 


“It is said that I have inspired the attack on McCormick’s. 
That is a lie. The fight is going on; now is the chance to 
strike for the existence of the oppressed classes. The oppress¬ 
ors want us to be content; they will kill us. The thought of 
liberty which inspired your sires to fight for their freedom 
ought to animate you to-day. The day is not far distant when 
we will resort to hanging these men. [Applause and cries of 
‘Hang them now!’] McCormick is the man who created the 
row Monday, and he must be held responsible for the murder 
of our brothers. [Cries of ‘Hang him!’] Don’t make any 
threats; they are of no avail; when you get ready to do some¬ 
thing, do it and don’t make any threats beforehand.’’ 

Parsons, the only native-born American among all the 
prominent actors in the fearful tragedy, spoke next. From 
the same shorthand report the following is taken: 

“It behooves you, as you love your wife and children—if 
you don’t want to see them perish with hunger, killed or cut 
down like dogs on the street,—Americans, in the interest of 
your liberty and your independence, to arms! arm your¬ 
selves!’’ 

Samuel Fielden followed in quite a long speech. His con¬ 
cluding remarks, from the same reliable report, were as 
follows: 

“The law makes no distinction. A million men own all the 
property in this country. The law has no use for the other 
fifty-four million. [A voice, ‘Right enough!’] You have 
nothing more to do with the law except to lay hands on it, and 
throttle it until it makes its last kick. It turns your brothers 
out upon the wayside, and has degraded them until they have 
lost the last vestige of humanity, and they are mere things 
and animals. Keep your eyes upon it! Throttle it! Kill it! 
Stab it! Do everything you can to wound it, to impede its 
progress. Remember, before trusting them to do anything 
for you, prepare to do it for yourself. Don’t turn over your 
business to anybody else. No man deserves anything unless 
he is man enough to make an effort to lift himself from 
oppression. Is it not a fact that we have no choice as to our 
existence, for we can’t dictate whut our labor is worth? He 


374 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


that has to obey the will of any is a slave. Can we do any¬ 
thing except by the strong arm of resistance? Socialists are 
not going to declare war; bnt I tell you, war has been declared 
upon us, and I ask you to get hold of anything that will help 
to resist the onslaught of the enemy and the usurper. The 
skirmish-lines have met. People have been shot. Men, 
women and children have not been spared by the capitalists 
and minions of private capital. It had no mercy, so ought 
you. What matters it whether you kill yourselves with work 
to get a little relief, or die on the battle-field resisting the 
enemy? What is the difference? Any animal, however loath¬ 
some, will resist when stepped upon. Are men less than 
snails and worms? I have some resistance in me; I know that 
you have, too. You have been robbed, and you will be starved 
into a worse condition. ’ ’ 

When the anarchist had reached this point in his ha¬ 
rangue, Captain William Ward, of the Desplaines street 
station, with a hundred and eighty policemen behind him, 
appeared upon the scene. Halting a few feet from the 
wagon, Captain Ward said, in a loud voice: “I command you, 
in the name of the people of the State of Illinois, to imme¬ 
diately and peaceably disperse. ’ ’ 

This command, made in strict accordance with the laws 
of the State, was not accompanied with any act of violence, 
nor was it accompanied with any threat, unless it could be 
implied, from the ranks of the blue-coated conservators of the 
peace. The claim was made, and is still made, that the attack 
which followed was in self-defense. The absurdity of this is 
apparent. In the judgment of the authorities, the meeting 
was a menace to law and order, and they were justified in 
dispersing it. 

Fielden replied: “We are peaceable.” Whether or not 
these words were a signal for action, may never be known; 
but immediately a bomb with a lighted fuse swept through the 
air and fell in the midst of the officers. It exploded at once, 
and dealt death and destruction; sixty being wounded, of 
whom seven subsequently died. For an instant only, the 
police wavered; then, closing their ranks, they poured volley 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 


375 


after volley from their ready revolvers into the ranks of the 
rioters, many of whom were wounded and some killed; the 
exact number never having been ascertained, as many were 
helped away by friends and their cases never reported. 

This terrible denouement of a long series of threats on the 
part of organized anarchy threw the city into a condition 
bordering on frenzy, and fairly convulsed the entire nation. 
The Arbeiter Zeitung was suppressed, and the mayor issued a 
proclamation commanding the people not to assemble in 
crowds. A systematic search of anarchist headquarters 
resulted in the discovery and seizure of large quantities of 
arms and dynamite bombs, together with red flags, banners 
and anarchistic literature. Eight anarchist leaders were 
arrested and indicted for murder, and twenty-six others for 
conspiracy and treason. Those indicted and tried for murder 
were August Spies, a German by nationality, editor of the 
A rbeiter Zeitung , and one of the leading anarchist agitators; 
A. R. Parsons, an American—brother of the Confederate 
general, Lew Parsons—commander-at-large of the anarchists, 
whose wife, an octoroon, was also a violent agitator; Samuel 
Fielden, English by nationality, a carpenter by trade, and a 
noted agitator; Oscar Neebe, German, laborer in a brewery 
and circulator of the Arbeiter; Adolph Fischer, German, com¬ 
positor on and circulator of the Arbeiter; George Engel, Ger¬ 
man, anarchist agitator; Michael Schwab, German, associate 
editor of the Arbeiter, and Louis Lingg, German and profes¬ 
sional anarchist. 

On the day after the murder, Rudolph Schnaubelt was 
arrested by the city detectives, charged with complicity in the 
attack upon the police. The extent of the horrid conspiracy 
was not at that time appreciated, or even dreamed of, and 
Schnaubelt, answering all questions in a satisfactory manner, 
was released by the police and immediately disappeared, 
and was never re-arrested, although it subsequently appeared 
highly probable that he was the man who actually threw the 
fatal bomb. A. R. Parsons also disappeared, but when the 
case was called for trial, he came into court and smilingly gave 
himself up. 


376 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


The eight anarchists were speedily put on trial before Hon. 
Joseph E. Gary, for conspiracy and murder. Spies, Fielden, 
Schwab and Neebe attempted to secure separate trials, but 
this was refused on the ground that they were indicted 
jointly, for a conspiracy. After some four weeks had been 
spent in examining talesmen, a jury was at length secured, 
and the real trial of the anarchists began by the taking of evi¬ 
dence on Friday, July 16, 1886. The trial occupied some five 
weeks, and was strongly contested at every point, both the 
State and defense being represented by able lawyers. The 
verdict of the jury was returned on the morning of Friday, the 
20th day of August, and was as follows: 

“We, the jury, find the defendants, August Spies, Michael 
Schwab, Samuel Fielden, Albert R. Parsons, Adolph Fischer, 
George Engel and Louis Lingg, guilty of murder in manner 
and form as charged in the indictment, and fix the penalty at 
death. We find the defendant Oscar W. Neebe guilty of 
murder in manner and form as charged in the indictment, and 
fix the penalty at imprisonment in the penitentiary for fifteen 
years. ’ ’ 

To go into this trial and undertake to present even an 
outline of the voluminous testimony would far transcend 
the limits that can be assigned to this case in the present 
volume. Some of the anarchists who were under indict¬ 
ment for conspiracy turned State’s evidence. In this way 
the terrible significance of the “Y” and “Ruhe” printed 
in the Arbeiter Zeitung , was ascertained. Gottfried Wal¬ 
ler, a Swiss cabinet-maker, and a member of the Lehr und 
Wehr Verein, testified that this society was made up of 
various groups of armed anarchists. He swore that the 
publication of the letter “Y” meant an appointment for a 
meeting of the armed section at Grief’s Hall. At this meet¬ 
ing, the witness acted as chairman. About eighty anarchists 
were present, among them Engel and Fischer. He further 
testified that Engel proceeded to unfold a plan by which, in 
the event of a collision occurring between the strikers and the 
police, the word “Ruhe’’ in the Arbeiter Zeitung should be 
understood as the signal for the Lehr and Wehr and th$ 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 


377 


Northwest group of anarchists to assemble in the northwestern 
part of the city, armed and ready for action. The plan was 
to then proceed to storm the North Avenue police-station, and, 
after demolishing that, proceed to the other police-stations of 
the city, which were likewise to be destroyed. Dynamite was 
to be employed in the work of destruction, and all who offered 
opposition to the movement for the promotion of anarchy 
were to be shot down. As a part of the plan, and without 
which it would have been foredoomed to failure, all the tele¬ 
graph wires were to be cut, those communicating with the 
outside world as well as those connecting the different portions 
of the city. Engel declared that this plan had already been 
adopted by the Northwest group. It was expected that, in 
the intense disorder that would ensue, large numbers of angry 
strikers would join the anarchists and a revolution be effected 
in the city. 

It was at this time that the meeting at the Haymarket on 
May 4th was arranged, Fischer being intrusted with the work 
of preparing and circulating the necessary handbills. Waller 
was corroborated by other witnesses, and there is not the 
slightest doubt but what the dastardly plan he recounted, 
which meant the loss of thousands of lives and the sacking 
and, very possibly, burning of the city, had been deliberately 
planned by men whose watchword was “Death to the Law.” 
In the meantime, as was abundantly proved, the anarchists 
had for some time been employed in manufacturing dynamite 
bombs of various kinds, and were all heavily armed. Louis 
Lingg was the most active in the manufacture of explosives, 
and maintained a regular factory where, in connection with 
several others, he turned them out in large numbers. By 
direct evidence, all the defendants, with the exception of Oscar 
Neebe, were connected with the fearful conspiracy. Neebe 
distributed the circulars, but was not very closely connected, 
by the evidence, with the transaction. 

Anarchy is, most happily, detested and abhorred by the 
American people, with exceptions so rare as only to empha¬ 
size the rule. Of the active anarchists in this country, not one 
in fifty is an American by birth. It is entirely natural that 


37 ^ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the outrageous acts of these men should meet with the abso¬ 
lute disapproval of all law-abiding citizens, and there is quite 
a widely-disseminated idea that the anarchists were con¬ 
victed as a matter of policy; that the law was strained in their 
case, and that the verdict of the jury, though most salutary in 
its effect, was hardly warranted by the law and the evidence. 
This notion is clearly wrong. In a very able and quite com¬ 
prehensive article by Hon. Joseph E. Gary, the judge who 
presided at the trial of the anarchists, published in the Cen¬ 
tury Magazine for April, 1893, the justice of their conviction is 
clearly shown. We wish every American could read it; the 
popular opinion of this noted trial would surely be changed by 
the operation. The concluding paragraph of this remarkable 
article may well be quoted: 

“For nearly seven years the clamor, uncontradicted, has 
gone round the world that the anarchists were heroes and 
martyrs, victims of a prejudice and fear. Not a dozen per¬ 
sons alive were prepared by familiarity with the details of their 
crime and trial, and present knowledge of the materials from 
which those details could be shown, to present a succinct 
account of them to the public. It so happened that my posi¬ 
tion was such that from me that account would probably 
attract as much attention as it would from any other source. 
Right-minded, thoughtful people, who recognize the necessity 
of civilization, of the existence and enforcement of laws for the 
protection of human life, and who yet may have had misgiv¬ 
ings as to the fate of the anarchists, will, I trust, read what I 
have written, and dismiss those misgivings, convinced that in 
law and in morals the anarchists were rightly punished, not 
for opinions, but for horrible deeds. ” 

The remarks of the distinguished jurist in passing sentence 
upon the eight men, while thoughtful, dignified and touching, 
are so far different from those usually heard upon like solemn 
occasions, and so clearly elucidate the position of the court as 
to the guilt of the convicted men in the eyes of the law, that 
they are produced here. We commend them to the careful 
consideration of every man who wishes to see upheld and 
perpetuated the free institutions of America. 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 


379 


“I am quite well aware that what you have said, although 
addressed to me, has been said to the world,” began the 
judge, “yet nothing has been said which weakens the force of 
the proof, or the conclusions therefrom upon which the verdict 
is based. You are all men of intelligence, and know that, if 
the verdict stands, it must be executed. The reasons why it 
shall stand I have already sufficiently stated in deciding the 
motion for a new trial. I am sorry, beyond any power of 
expression, for your unhappy condition, and for the terrible 
events that have brought you to it. I shall address to you 
neither reproaches nor exhortations. What I shall say will be 
said in the faint hope that a few words from a place where the 
people of the State of Illinois have delegated the authority to 
declare the penalty of a violation of their laws, and spoken upon 
an occasion so solemn and awful as this, may come to the 
knowledge of, and be heeded by, the ignorant, deluded, and 
misguided men who have listened to your counsels and fol¬ 
lowed your advice. I say in the faint hope; for if men are 
persuaded that because of business differences, whether about 
labor or anything else, they may destroy property, and assault 
and beat other men, and kill the police, if they, in the dis¬ 
charge of their duty, interfere to preserve the peace, there is 
little ground to hope that they will listen to any warning. 

“Not the least among the hardships of the peaceable, 
frugal and laborious poor, it is to endure the tyranny of mobs, 
who with lawless force dictate to them, under penalty of peril 
to limb and life, where, when and upon what terms they may 
earn a livelihood for themselves and their families. Any 
government that is worthy of the name will strenuously 
endeavor to secure to all within its jurisdiction, freedom to 
follow their lawful avocations in safety for their property and 
their persons while obeying the law. 

“And the law is common-sense . 

“It holds each man responsible for the natural and prob¬ 
able consequences of his own acts. It holds that whoever 
advises murder is himself guilty of the murder that is com¬ 
mitted pursuant to his advice; and if men band together for 
forcible resistance to the execution of the law, and advise 


380 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


murder as the means of making such resistance effectual, 
whether such advice to one man to murder another, or to a 
numerous class to murder men of another class, all who are so 
banded together are guilty of any murder that is committed in 
pursuance of such advice. 

“The people of this country love their institutions. They 
love their homes. They love their property. They will 
never consent that by violence and murder those institutions 
shall be broken down, their homes despoiled, and their prop¬ 
erty destroyed. And the people are strong enough to protect 
and sustain their institutions, and to punish all offenders 
against their laws; and those who threaten danger to civil 
society, if the law is enforced, are leading to destruction who¬ 
ever may attempt to execute such threats. 

“The existing order of society can be changed only by the 
will of the majority. 

“Each man has the full right to entertain, and advocate by 
speech and print, such opinions as suit himself, and the great 
body of the people will usually care little what he says; but if 
he proposes murder as a means of enforcing them, he puts his 
own life at stake; and no clamor about free speech, or evils to 
be cured, or wrongs to be redressed, will shield him from the 
consequences of his crime. His liberty is not a license to 
destroy. The toleration he enjoys he must extend to others, 
and not arrogantly assume that the great majority are wrong, 
and may rightly be coerced by terror, or removed by dyna¬ 
mite. 

“It only remains that for the crime you have committed, 
and of which you have been convicted, after a trial unexampled 
in the patience with which an outraged people have extended 
to you every protection and privilege of the law which you 
derided and defied, the sentence of the law be now pro¬ 
nounced. In form and detail that sentence will appear upon 
the records of the court. In substance and effect it is that the 
defendant Neebe be imprisoned in the State penitentiary at 
Joliet at hard labor for the term of fifteen years; and that each 
of the other defendants, between the hours of ten o’clock in 
the forenoon and two o’clock in the afternoon <?f the 3d day of 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 381 


December next, in the manner provided by the statute, be 
hung by the neck until he is dead. ’ ’ 

Before the sentence was pronounced, each of the convicted 
men addressed the court, some of them talking at great 
length. The speech of Parsons, who, at his own request, was 
the last to address the court, occupied nine hours, and the 
eight defendants consumed three entire days. All of them 
were men of intelligence and some of them possessed rather 
remarkable gifts of oratory. Their remarks were listened to 
with the closest attention, thousands being unable to obtain 
admission to the court-room. These speeches now form a 
leading portion of the gospel of anarchy, and are the text¬ 
books in the schools where men are taught that all law should 
be abolished and mankind started on a retrograde movement 
toward barbarism. The most extreme and violent of all the 
condemned men was Louis Lingg. His speech was bitter, 
but had about it the true ring of anarchy, and wrought almost 
to frenzy the misguided adherents of the abolition of the 
reign of law. We quote the concluding sentences of his 
impassioned and impudent tirade: 

“You smile. You perhaps think I will not use bombs any 
more, but I tell you I die gladly upon the gallows in the sure 
hope that hundreds and thousands of people to whom I have 
spoken will now recognize and make use of dynamite. In this 
hope I despise you, and I despise your laws. Hang me 
for it. ’ ’ 

No efforts ,were spared to save the lives of the condemned 
men. An appeal was taken to the Supreme Court of Illinois, 
where the judgment of the Criminal Court was sustained. 
The opinion of the Court, prepared by Mr. Justice Benjamin 
D. Magruder, was filed September 14, 1887, and is a legal 
document of great ability, destined to become a much-quoted 
authority in similar trials, if the hydra-headed monster, 
Anarchy, again displays its poisoned fangs in America. 

The Supreme Court, as provided by the statute, fixed a 
day for the execution of the seven condemned to death, nam¬ 
ing November 11, 1887. Before that time the Governor of 
Illinois commuted the sentence of Schwab and Fielden to 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


3 $2 

imprisonment for life. On November ioth, the day before the 
execution, Louis Lingg committed suicide in his cell in the 
county jail. He carried his devotion to dynamite to the end. 
He managed to secure a small stick of the deadly explosive, or 
a fulminating cap, it was never certainly known which, by 
means of which he blew his head to pieces. The others were 
executed pursuant to their sentence. There was intense 
excitement at the time, and an uprising of the anarchists was 
feared, but the day passed without any further outbreak 
occurring. The anarchists had encountered the law, and had 
not found it to their liking. 

It was believed at the time when the sentences of Schwab 
and Fielden were commuted to imprisonment for life, that they 
would end their lives in prison. But the law-supporting citi¬ 
zens of Illinois had not taken into account the possibilities of 
elections. There are comparatively few anarchists in the 
State, but there are large numbers of organized socialists who 
ardently desired the release of the three prisoners. They 
represented many thousands of votes, and could exert a great 
influence on elections. On June 26, 1893, John P. Altgeld, 
Governor of the State of Illinois, granted a full and free par¬ 
don to Fielden, Schwab and Neebe, the latter of whom was 
serving a term of fifteen years. 

It is only fair to state that a strong pressure was brought to 
bear upon Governor Altgeld, many prominent citizens having 
interested themselves in behalf of the imprisoned anarchists. 
Had the chief executive confined himself to pardoning them 
there would have been comparatively little complaint. It was 
generally believed that Neebe’s connection with the awful 
tragedy was very slight, and that neither Schwab nor Fielden 
were as guilty as those who suffered death. The law had been 
amply vindicated, the prisoners had learned a lesson likely to 
last them for the remainder of their lives, and an act of 
clemency would tend to allay bitter feelings and conduce to 
the peace and quiet of the State. 

But the Governor was not satisfied with this course. He 
prepared and gave out for publication a long statement, which 
amounted for the most part to an argument attempting to 


THE HAYMARKET MASSACRE 383 


demonstrate that the entire eight men had been unjustly con¬ 
victed. In this behalf he analyzed the evidence with great 
minuteness and undoubted ingenuity. Not satisfied with an 
attempt to discredit the juries and judicial methods of the 
State—and such a paper from the chief executive could not but 
have a marked effect in that direction—he made a bitter per¬ 
sonal attack upon Hon. Joseph E. Gary, the venerable judge 
who presided at the trial. Probably no man in Illinois is more 
widely known or more generally respected as a citizen of 
unblemished character and a jurist of great ability and scru¬ 
pulous honesty, than Judge Gary. In consequence of this, 
Governor Altgeld was severely criticised, by prominent mem¬ 
bers of his own party as well as by the opposition. Certain it 
is that his action has had a bad effect upon the State and the 
nation, viewed from the standpoint—which, most happily, still 
prevails in this country—that American laws and institutions 
must be sustained. 


CHAPTER XXII 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 

The Old Bailey, which still stands in London opposite grim 
Newgate, with its prison record of six centuries, has been the 
scene of many historic trials, its record in this regard being, 
probably, unapproached by any structure now existing in 
the world. A long line of murderers, highwaymen and 
felons of all kinds and descriptions, have there been 
arraigned, tried and sent away to ignominious deaths. 
It may well be doubted, however, whether the Old Bailey 
ever witnessed a trial that excited greater interest among 
the people of Great Britain than that of William Palmer, 
held within its precincts before the Central Criminal Court, 
in May, 1856. 

It was not the atrocity of the crime, but the difficulty of 
establishing it, the defense made, and the clash of expert wit¬ 
nesses, that aroused the most intense interest among all 
classes of society, vulgar and polite, ignorant and scientific. 
A large portion of the leading medical and chemical experts 
of England, Scotland and Ireland testified, either for the 
Crown or prisoner, in the Palmer trial, and it has since been 
recognized as the leading case where murder was consum¬ 
mated through the employment of strychnine. 

The murder was committed at the town of Rugeley, in 
Staffordshire, England. The community was aroused to a 
high pitch of indignation, the evident prejudice against the 
prisoner being very great. Accordingly, through his counsel, 
the prisoner applied for a change of venue, expressing a desire 
to be tried before the Central Criminal Court in London. 
This went beyond the power of the court to grant, but per¬ 
mission was given by a special act of Parliament, and the pris- 

384 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 385 


oner was removed to Newgate to stand trial for his life in the 
Old Bailey. 

William Palmer began life as a chemist and druggist in the 
town of Rugeley, county Stafford, in the central portion of 
England. In this employment he acquired quite an intimate 
knowledge of drugs and chemicals, and later became a medical 
practitioner. He soon wearied of his profession, however, 
and betook himself to the turf, where he bet largely on the 
races, owning some race-horses himself. In the meantime, 
he sold his chemist’s shop to an assistant named Thirlby. At 
the time of the murder, Palmer, who was about thirty-one 
years of age, had dissipated the little fortune he had once pos¬ 
sessed, and was in great financial embarrassment. 

John Parsons Cook, for whose murder Palmer was sent to 
the scaffold, was a man of a somewhat similar history. When 
quite young—he was but eight and twenty at the time of his 
death—he began the study of the law, but, falling into some 
property, about ^15,000, he abandoned the idea of becoming a 
practitioner, and, like Palmer, adopted the race-course as a 
means of obtaining a livelihood. Similar in their antecedents, 
history, education and tastes, these two young men met some 
three or four years before the tragedy, and became intimate, 
almost inseparable, friends. Palmer was possessed of the 
stronger will, the greater intellect, and speedily acquired a 
dominant influence over his friend. 

That Palmer was a rascal, entitled to a high place in the 
world of sharpers, is evident from his financial operations, in 
which forgery and fraud held a prominent place. Some 
account of these transactions is necessary to an under¬ 
standing of the motives that led him to kill his friend and 
associate; besides, they cut an important figure in his 
celebrated trial. 

Difficulties are liable to arise in any calling in life, but are 
more likely to confront those who rely upon gambling for a 
livelihood. Horse-racing proved disastrous to both these 
young men. As early as 1853 Palmer had practically 
exhausted his resources. For a time he seems to have 
secured assistance from his mother, who was a woman of 


386 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 

some wealth, but in 1853 he began to raise money on bills, 
which he discounted at ruinous rates with different brokers, 
doing the most of it through a London solicitor named Pratt. 
Finally, he began to discount bills bearing the forged signa¬ 
ture of his mother, Sarah Palmer. 

His relations with Pratt appear to have begun in the latter 
part of 1854, at which time he owed large sums on bills, a 
considerable portion of which was due and sadly pressing him. 
In September of that year his wife, whose life was insured in 
his favor for ^13,000, about $65,000, died, and with this 
money, through the instrumentality of Pratt, he paid off some 
of the most annoying of his debts. 

In 1854 Palmer effected an insurance for ^13,000 in the 
name of his brother, the policy being assigned to him. Upon 
this policy as security, he discounted, through Mr. Pratt, bills 
aggregating ^12,500, all of which bore the forged signa¬ 
ture of his mother. In 1855 Palmer’s brother died. The 
rogue had doubtless expected to pay off his liabilities from the 
proceeds of the insurance policy, but the company declined to 
pay it, setting up fraud as a defense. Whether Palmer killed 
his brother, as was freely intimated after his arrest for the 
murder of Cook, will never be known, but the suspicion was 
heightened by the circumstance that, after failing to collect 
the policy, he took steps to insure the life of an employe, a 
man named Bates, for ^25,000. The company declined to 
take so large a risk, and the application was reduced to 
^10,000. The office now made a searching inquiry, learned 
that Bates was a person possessed of neither wealth nor stand¬ 
ing in society, and declined to have any dealings with him. 
In this negotiation Cook took a prominent part. In Septem¬ 
ber, 1855, Palmer had outstanding discounted bills aggre¬ 
gating ^11,500. Several of them were overdue, and all of 
them bore the forged signature of Sarah Palmer. 

On November 6, 1855, Pratt caused two writs for ^4,000 
each to issue. One of these was against Palmer, and the other 
against his mother. In notifying Palmer of the event, Pratt 
informed him that he would hold the writs for a few days, 
thus giving him an opportunity to renew them by paying 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 387 


something on them, and also to arrange for another bill that 
would become due in a few days. 

Ruin, disgrace and penal servitude thus stared Palmer in 
the face. Cook had a race-horse named Polestar entered for 
the Shrewsbury races, to be run on November 13th. The 
horse was a good one and Cook had backed it quite heavily. 
On that day both Palmer and Cook were at Shrewsbury, the 
former having borrowed ^25 to pay the expenses of the 
journey, which shows that he was otherwise without money. 
Polestar won the race and Cook’s winnings,^including the 
purse, amounted to over ^2,000. Of this he collected over 
£700 upon the course, the remainder being payable in London 
a week later. 

In his desperate condition, Palmer seems to have decided 
to take the life of his friend, since the money Cook had, and 
that which was due him, would enable him to make some kind 
of terms with Pratt. On the night of November 14th, Cook, 
who occupied a room next to Palmer’s at the Raven Hotel in 
Shrewsbury, invited a Mr. Fisher, a sporting man who some¬ 
times acted as his agent in collecting bets at Tattersall’s in 
London, and who, with another sporting man named Herring, 
occupied an adjoining room, to have a glass of brandy and 
water in his apartment. 

Entering the room, Fisher found Cook and Palmer sitting 
at a table, Cook having a tumbler of brandy and water before 
him. Cook invited Palmer to drink another glass, but the 
latter declined unless Cook would first finish his glass. This 
Cook promptly did, and immediately exclaimed: “Good God! 
there is something in it that burns my throat.’’ 

A trifle was left in the glass, and Palmer at once drained it, 
declaring that there was nothing wrong with it. He then 
offered the glass to Fisher, and asked him to taste it, but 
none of the liquor remained. 

In a few minutes Cook was taken suddenly ill, vomiting 
violently and with great frequency. A medical man was sent 
for and the vomiting continued for some two hours. When 
first taken sick Cook, who seems to have] been suspicious of 
Palmer, gave his money, amounting to over £700 in notes, to 


3 88 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Fisher, which the latter returned to him the following day, 
Cook being then much better. On that day a horse of Palmer’s 
called Chicken lost in a race, leaving the unfortunate man in 
a still more deplorable financial condition. 

On the night when Cook became so suddenly and violently 
ill after drinking the brandy and water, and just before that 
occurrence, a woman named Mrs. Brooks, who kept a register 
for jockeys and secured them employment, called to see 
Palmer with reference to hiring him a jockey to ride his horse, 
Chicken, the following day. As she entered the lobby, out of 
which the rooms of Cook and Palmer opened, she saw the 
latter holding a tumbler up against the gas-light and curiously 
scrutinizing its contents. Then he entered his own room, 
from which he soon emerged, still carrying the glass, and 
passed into the apartment occupied by Cook. 

The poison administered to Cook by Palmer at the Raven 
was undoubtedly antimony, the theory of the Crown being 
that the murderer was preparing to safely kill his victim with 
the strychnine by first administering antimony, which is the 
active ingredient of tartar emetic and produces vomiting. The 
analysis of Cook’s vital organs after his death showed the 
undoubted presence of antimony, and none had been adminis¬ 
tered by the physicians during his sickness. 

On Thursday, November 15th, after ten o’clock at night, 
the two sporting men reached Rugeley, Cook going to a hotel 
known as the Talbot Arms, Palmer to his own house, 
which was directly across the street. Cook announced that he 
had been very ill at Shrewsbury, but was nearly well again. 
The next day he went out and dined with Palmer, returned to 
the hotel in a state of perfect sobriety about ten o’clock and 
went to bed. The next morning Palmer called early and 
gave Cook some coffee, after drinking which he was taken 
violently ill, vomiting exactly as he had at Shrewsbury. Dur¬ 
ing the next two days, Saturday and Sunday, Palmer was 
almost constantly with Cook, everything that he ate or drank 
passing through his hands. 

About noon on Saturday, Palmer went to his house, where 
he caused a basin of broth to be brought from the Albion, an 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 389 


inn of Rugeley. Having heated it in the kitchen, he gave it to 
a woman and told her to take it across the street to Cook. 
The latter swallowed a little of it, but it immediately made him 
sick and was carried downstairs. Coming in a little later, 
Palmer declared that the patient must take the broth, and 
caused it to be brought up again. At Palmer’s command 
Cook swallowed a little, which almost immediately produced a 
violent fit of vomiting. It afterwards appeared that a woman 
named Elizabeth Mills, a servant in the hotel, thinking the 
broth looked very nice, had drank two tablespoons of it when 
first sent down from the sick man’s room. As a result, she 
became very ill, and was compelled to remain in bed all the 
afternoon, vomiting much of the time. 

On Saturday afternoon Dr. Bamford, of Rugeley, was 
called in. Palmer had informed him that the patient was 
suffering from a bilious attack and had been taking too much 
wine. Dr. Bamford found not the slightest indication of 
biliousness, while Cook, in the presence of Palmer, stated 
that he had only taken two glasses of wine on the preceding 
evening. Later in the day, and during the evening, Palmer 
administered coffee and arrowroot to the sick man, which 
brought on violent attacks of vomiting. 

On Sunday Palmer brought Bamford again, who found the 
vomiting still continuing, with nothing to indicate the cause, 
there being not the slightest indication of bile, the pulse being 
about normal, and respiration quite regular. On Monday 
morning Palmer brought a cup of coffee to his sick friend, 
which immediately brought on a fit of vomiting. After that 
Palmer took a train for London, and did not return until 
night. During his absence Mr. Cook’s condition decidedly 
improved, the vomiting ceased, and he announced himself as 
much better. This was no wonder, since there was no one at 
Rugeley to administer irritating antimony during the absence 
of the poisoner. 

But it was not motives of humanity that took William 
Palmer down to London. He was obliged to delay his 
fiendish work, but had no notion of abandoning it. John 
Carsons Cook had something more than 1,000 coming to 


39 ° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


him in London, and Monday was settling day at Tattersall’s. 
But Palmer did not call at the counting-rooms of the great 
sporting house; he was in default on their books, and did not 
dare to present himself. Instead, he called on Cook’s agent, 
Mr. Fisher, and requested him to make the collections, telling 
him that Cook had agreed to let him have the money. With 
the cash thus fraudulently secured, Palmer was able to satisfy 
Pratt and another man to whom he owed a bill and gain a 
little delay, promising more money in a few days. 

Monday night Palmer returned to Rugeley and proceeded 
to call upon a man named Newton, the assistant to a surgeon 
named Salt, from whom he secured three grains of strychnine. 
Newton thought nothing of this at the time, since strychnine 
was sometimes, though rarely, used in medicine, and he knew 
Palmer to be a medical man. That same evening Dr. Barn- 
ford called at the Talbot Arms and left some pills for Cook, 
which were given to Palmer. The latter administered some 
pills to the sick man—doubtless some that he had made him¬ 
self, employing strychnine as one of the principal ingredients 
—and left him about eleven o’clock in a very comfortable con¬ 
dition. 

Suddenly, about midnight, the women in the lower part of 
the house were aroused by the most fearful screams and excla¬ 
mations of pain proceeding from Mr. Cook’s room. Flying 
thither, they found the unfortunate man suffering the most 
intense agony. He was screaming, beating the bed and roll¬ 
ing wildly about, while his eyes seemed almost starting from 
his head. His arms were rubbed at his request and Palmer, 
who had gone to his own house, was quickly sent for. The 
latter told Cook that he would soon be better, and gave him 
an opiate and a couple of pills. The former was quickly 
rejected by the stomach, but the latter were not. After this 
the pain subsided somewhat and the patient became more 
tranquil. 

A grain of strychnine is usually a fatal dose for a human 
being. Whether Cook had vomited some of the pills adminis¬ 
tered by his professed friend will never be known, but he still 
lived. Presumably he had used the three grains procured 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 


39i 


from Newton, for about noon on Tuesday he repaired to the 
shop of a Rugeley druggist named Hawkings, a man with 
whom he had had no dealings for two years, and asked for 
two drachms of prussic acid. Whether he had any intention 
of using this fearful poison is, of course, unknown. While the 
clerk was putting this up for him, Newton, the young man 
from whom he had secured the three grains of strychnine, came 
into the shop. Palmer at once took him by the arm and led 
him into the street, where he talked with him about an incon¬ 
sequential matter until another party came up and engaged 
Newton in conversation, when he reentered the shop and 
called for six grains of strychnine, and a quantity of Batley’s 
liquor of opium. With his two purchases he left the place. 

Mr. Cook was entitled to receive the sum of ^350, the 
stake money won by his horse Polestar at Shrewsbury, and on 
this Tuesday Palmer took steps to collect it by means of a 
check payable to himself and purporting to be signed by Cook. 
This check was not paid, the stake money not having been 
collected. He procured a man named Cheshire to write the 
body of this check, giving the following remarkable reason 
therefor: “Poor Cook is too ill to draw the check himself, 
and Messrs. Wetherby might know my handwriting.” 

Mr. Cook was in the habit of spending much of his leisure 
time with a Mr. Jones, a medical practitioner of Lutterworth, 
and on the day he went down to London Palmer wrote Mr. 
Jones a letter telling him that Cook was sick with a bilious 
attack, and asking him to come and see him. Mr. Jones 
arrived on Tuesday, and at once remarked that there were 
no symptoms of biliousness. “You should have seen him 
before,” cried Palmer. 

On Tuesday Palmer administered coffee and broth to the 
patient, with the customary results. That night the three 
medical men, Bamford, Jones and Palmer, were together in 
Cook’s room, when the latter exclaimed: “Palmer, I’ll have 
more medicine to-night; no more pills. ’ ’ 

With this the doctors left the room together, and decided to 
tell Cook that a different kind of pills from the ones he had 
taken the preceding night would be prepared for him, and 


392 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


that they would prove decidedly beneficial. Palmer went 
with Dr. Bamford to his surgery and saw him make up the 
pills, which he was to take back to the hotel. The task com¬ 
pleted, Palmer asked the doctor to write the directions upon 
the box. This struck Bamford as a strange request, coming 
as it did from a medical man who was to himself administer 
the medicine, but he complied, and wrote upon the box: “Pills 
to be taken at bed-time. ’ ’ 

Three-quarters of an hour elapsed between the time when 
Palmer left Bamford’s surgery and when he reached the Tal¬ 
bot Arms. As soon as he came he administered two of the 
pills to the sick man, despite his objections, at the same time 
calling the attention of Dr. Jones to the writing on the box, 
remarking that it was extremely good for a man of eighty 
years. This struck Dr. Jones as peculiar, since he had never 
met Dr. Bamford until that day and was not interested in the 
subject of his handwriting. Beyond a doubt, the remark was 
made to emphasize the fact that the pills, which he hoped 
would end the life of the man he called his friend, had been 
put up by Dr. Bamford. 

Dr. Jones went downstairs, and had some supper, after 
which he went to bed. According to his testimony on the 
trial, Cook was much better when he left him that night than 
he had found him in the morning. A few minutes after 
retiring he heard Cook calling loudly for the doctor, declaring 
that he was in the same condition he had been in on the 
previous uight. Jones found the patient suffering intense 
pain, gasping for breath and screaming violently. His body 
was convulsed, and his neck began to stiffen. Palmer was 
summoned from his house, and came so quickly as to almost 
give the lie to his statement that he had been in bed. Palmer 
brought some pills, which he told Dr. Jones were ammonia, 
and these Cook swallowed, though he failed to retain them. 
He wished to be raised up, but this was found to be impos¬ 
sible, his whole body being so stiffened and bowed from the 
terrible cramps from which he was suffering. Then he asked 
to be turned over. This was done, and he seemed to become 
easier, and after a few minutes quietly expired. 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 


393 


The murderer’s presence of mind did not desert him. He 
asked Jones to go and call the female servants. They 
recommended two women to lay out the remains, and when 
these came a few minutes later, they saw Palmer searching 
under the dead man’s pillow and under the bolster. They also 
saw him search the pockets of Mr. Cook’s coat. When Cook 
came to Rugeley he was known to have had upon his person 
over ^700 in notes, but none of this was afterwards found, nor 
could his betting-book be discovered. Beyond a doubt the 
prisoner took these, together with a number of letters. 

That William Palmer was a man possessed of considerable 
executive ability and capable of exerting great influence over 
those with whom he came in contact, will scarcely be doubted 
by those who have read this brief account of his dealings with 
John Parsons Cook. From brokers, betting men, druggists 
and others, he secured favors and concessions, while he walked 
through the Talbot Arms at Rugeley as if he were its licensed 
landlord. Palmer was an audacious man, and his very 
audacity saved him, for a long time, from actual arrest, if not 
from suspicion. Two or three instances illustrating this 
power of the poisoner may be presented as forming a neces¬ 
sary part of the narrative. 

On the Sunday following Mr. Cook’s death, Palmer went 
to Dr. Bamford and asked for a certificate as to the cause of 
his demise. “Why do you ask that of me?’’ replied the 
doctor. “He was your patient.’’ “I would rather you gave 
the certificate,” answered Palmer, and after a little further 
talk Bamford consented to do this, and actually wrote out and 
delivered to Palmer a document giving apoplexy as the cause 
of John Parson Cook’s death, though he must have well 
known, despite the infirmities of age, that such was not the 
case. 

The young drug clerk, Charles Newton, appears to have 
been under the influence of Palmer. He proved a most 
important witness for the Crown, but not until the day 
before the opening of the trial did he make known to the 
authorities the fact that Palmer had secured three grains of 
strychnine from him. On the day when the poisoner 


394 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


obtained the certificate of death Newton saw him in his 
house, and Palmer asked him what dose of strychnine would 
kill a dog; to which Newton replied that a grain would. The 
anxious murderer, who evidently wished to fortify his own 
opinion with that of another, then asked whether it could be 
found in the stomach after death, and what would be the 
appearance of the stomach. Newton replied that he thought 
no strychnine would be found and that there would be no 
inflammation. In response to this statement of opinion, 
Palmer expressed decided pleasure, and snapped his fingers. 

At the post-mortem, a number of medical men, including 
Palmer, were present, and the latter made an ineffectual effort 
to carry away the sealed jar containing the dead man’s 
stomach, after making various suggestions as to the diseases 
from which Cook had long been suffering, and which must 
have led to his death. The conduct of the poisoner had been 
such as to cause him to fall under suspicion, though no steps 
were taken to secure his arrest. It seems certain, from 
memoranda found in some of his medical books, and for other 
reasons, that Palmer had made a close study of the effect of 
strychnine on the human system, and that he believed that he 
had administered the poison so skilfully that none of it would 
be found in the stomach or other organs of his victim. At 
the inquest, before any charge had been made against him by 
any one, he exclaimed: “We shall not hang yet.” 

After the inquest the viscera was sent down to London for 
chemical analysis, and the murderer was naturally exceedingly 
anxious to learn in advance of the inquest the results obtained 
by the examining chemists. To accomplish this he called 
upon Samuel Cheshire, the man who had written the check 
purporting to have been signed by Cook, while the latter was 
sick. Cheshire was, and for eight years had been, the post¬ 
master at Rugeley, and Palmer induced him to open a letter 
written by Dr. Taylor, who had charge of the analysis for the 
Crown, to Mr. Gardiner, a solicitor. Cheshire opened the 
letter, and read a portion of it to Palmer, announcing that the 
chemists had found no trace of strychnine in the viscera sub¬ 
mitted to them. For this crime Cheshire was indicted and 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 


395 


found guilty. He was brought from prison to testify against 
Palmer upon the latter’s trial. 

A Mr. Stephens, Cook’s stepfather, appears to have been 
the first one to entertain suspicion against Palmer. He came 
to Rugeley immediately after his stepson’s death, and was 
greatly surprised that the dead man’s betting-book had not 
been found. Directly after Cook’s death, Palmer made the 
claim that he was indebted to him in the sum of ^4,000, the 
proceeds of bills that had been discounted, and presented 
Cheshire with a statement, purporting to bear the murdered 
man’s signature, attesting such to be the fact. This signature 
Palmer endeavored to get Cheshire to attest by affixing his 
own name to the document. To this the postmaster, who 
was not wholly depraved, though by no means an upright 
man, exclaimed: “Good God! the man is dead! I should not 
like to attest the signature of a man who is dead. If such a 
transaction should come out and I should have to give evi¬ 
dence of it, I should not like the position.” 

Receiving this reply, Palmer announced that it was a 
matter of small consequence, since the signature was all 
right, and took the paper away. 

As a result of the inquest, which was not concluded until 
December 5th, Palmer was taken into custody. Before that 
time he had paid Pratt two sums on account, of ^100 each, 
but another party, to whom he owed over-due bills, had caused 
him to be arrested for the debt, and had also proceeded against 
his mother on her supposed endorsement, which brought to 
light the poisoner’s long list of forgeries. 

In January, 1856, the body of Cook was exhumed and an 
examination made of the spinal cord. At that time the most 
unnatural rigidity of the lower limbs and muscles, which had 
been apparent at and before death, continued, the feet and 
hands being positively distorted. It may be mentioned that 
the women who laid out the body had found it necessary to 
bind the arms to the sides of the body with tape. These 
facts told heavily against the defense set up by the prisoner. 

The trial of William Palmer, which began in the Old 
Bailey on May 14, 1856, and continued for two weeks—an 


39^ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


unusual time for a murder trial in England—was one of the 
most memorable in the history of Great Britain. Lord Camp¬ 
bell presided, Mr. Justice Cresswell and Mr. Baron Alderson 
sitting with him, en banc. For the Crown, the attorney-gen¬ 
eral appeared in person, assisted by Mr. James, Q. C., Mr. 
Bodkin, Mr. Welsby and Mr. Huddleson. Mr. Serjeant Shee, 
one of the most eminent lawyers of the English bar, 
appeared for Palmer, and was ably assisted by Mr. Grove, 
Q. C., Mr. Gray, and Mr. Kinneally. 

The defense was that Mr. Cook had died of tetanus, the 
symptoms of which are decidedly similar to those of poisoning 
by strychnine. It is impossible to enter at length into this 
matter, yet it is necessary, even for a slight discussion of it, 
to say something of the nature of strychnine. 

Strychnine is a product from the seeds of Strychnos Nux 
Vomica, or poison nut, which come from the East Indies. It 
acts immediately and powerfully upon the nerves and muscles 
of the human body, and almost all forms of animal life. The 
attorney general, one of the most learned and eminent 
Englishmen of his time, spoke as follows of this fearful 
poison, and his position was sustained by a large number of 
medical experts: 

“Now, the way in which, acting on the voluntary muscles, 
strychnine is fatal to life is this: It produces the most intense 
excitement of all these muscles, violent convulsions take 
place, spasms which affect the whole muscles of the body; 
these, after a series of convulsive throes, end in rigidity—all 
the muscles become, after fearful cramps, fixed, and especially 
the respiratory, within which the lungs have their play, are 
fixed with rigidity. By that means respiration is prevented 
and death necessarily ensues. The symptoms are known to 
medical men under the term of tetanus, that is to say, con¬ 
vulsive motions of the muscles. Under that form of tetanus 
you have the utmost rigidity produced—convulsions followed 
by rigidity, the legs distended, the feet curved out of their nat¬ 
ural position, the muscles of the chest fixed, the muscles of the 
back, which hold the head in its erect position, forced back by 
the intensity of their excited retention, the head is thrown 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 397 


back and the body assumes the form of a bow, resting on the 
back of the head and the heels. That is the form from which 
death arises from strychnine. 

“It is, at the same time, right to say that tetanus, produc¬ 
ing death, arises from other causes; but there are character¬ 
istic differences which, I believe, prevent the possibility of a 
mistake to those who are connected with this department of 
science. There is what is called tromatic tetanus, from the 
Greek word “tromos,” signifying a wound. You have often 
heard of lockjaw arising from a cut, or the ulceration of some 
part of the body. There is also what is called idiopathic 
tetanus, which, as arising from disease, generally from sudden 
chill, produces this state of rigor of the muscular system; but 
there is the most marked difference between them.” 

The defense upon which Mr. Serjeant Shee principally 
relied was that John Parsons Cook had died a perfectly natural 
death, of idiopathic tetanus. An attempt was made to con¬ 
vince the jury that the symptoms developed by Mr. Cook just 
before his death, and the night preceding his demise, were 
those to be expected in a case where death had resulted from 
tetanus from disease. 

Expert witnesses, summoned to testify in a great trial, sel¬ 
dom disappoint the parties responsible for their attendance. 
In one respect this might well be expected, since the views of 
the witness are always obtained before he is brought before 
the jury. But the expert witness always goes beyond this 
point and exerts himself to sustain the position of the party 
who has given him an opportunity to show his knowledge in 
court. Without being necessarily dishonest, he parades those 
points favorable to his side of the case, and suppresses or avoids 
those calculated to make to the interests of the opposition. In 
the author’s observation expert testimony can always be pro¬ 
duced to establish any theory not absolutely ridiculous and 
self-condemning on its face. 

Renowned experts met and clashed in this memorable case. 
For the Crown the following well-known medical men and 
chemists were sworn: Thomas Blizzard Curling, Dr. Robert 
Todd, Henry Daniel, Samuel Solly, Henry Lee, Dr. Robert 


39^ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Corbett, Dr. Janies Patterson, Dr. Alfred Taylor, Dr. George 
Owen Rees, William Thomas Brande, Prof. Robert Chris- 
tison, and Dr. John Jackson. The defense introduced as 
experts Thomas Nunneley, William Herepath, Julian E. D. 
Rogers, Dr. Henry Letheby, Robert Edward Gay, John 
Brown Ross, Rivers Maratill, Dr. Francis Wrightson, Richard 
Partridge, John Gay, Dr. William McDonald, Dr. John Nathan 
Bainbridge, Edward Austin Steady, Dr. George Robinson, 
Dr. Benjamin Ward Richardson, and Oliver Pemberton. 

These long lists of men, including many of the most 
illustrious physicians and chemists of Great Britain, and their 
conflicting testimony aroused the metropolis, the entire 
nation, to a pitch of almost unprecedented excitement. Dr. 
Alfred Taylor, a physician of great note and the author of a 
standard work on poisons, had made an analysis of the 
stomach, intestines, liver, spleen and kidneys of John Parsons 
Cook. In this he was assisted by Dr. George Owen Rees, and 
the work was submitted to Prof. William Thomas Brande, a 
very eminent London chemist. 

These experts found quite a quantity of antimony, but, 
although employing every test known to chemical science, not 
a trace of strychnine, a point that was used with great force 
by the defense. It was the general theory of the Crown that 
the strychnine that caused the death could not be recovered 
and identified as such, but only such strychnine as remained in 
the body, or rather, the excess above that required to produce 
death. In accordance with this theory the circumstance that 
no strychnine was found in the remains of Mr. Cook did not 
warrant the conclusion that he had not died of strychnine 
poisoning, but rather that it had been skilfully administered. 
Messrs. Taylor and Rees had killed four rabbits with small 
doses of strychnine, and, in three out of the four, had been 
unable to discover a trace of strychnine by the most pains¬ 
taking chemical analysis. This position was fortified by the 
testimony of several other of the Crown’s witnesses, though 
combated by the defense. 

In the past forty years considerable advance has been 
made in the science of analytical chemistry, but it is still 


THE PALMER POISONING CASE 


399 


impossible to absolutely determine by chemical analysis 
whether a person has died of strychnine poisoning, though the 
chances of establishing the fact are much greater than 
formerly. What is known as a physiological test is at present 
employed to detect the presence of strychnine in a corpse 
where analysis has failed to indicate its presence. A portion 
of the liver, kidneys and other parts of the body most likely to 
retain the poison, is reduced to a fluid state and a little of it 
injected into the circulation of a frog. The nerves and 
muscles of frogs are peculiarly sensitive and the smallest pos¬ 
sible portion of strychnine will induce twitchings and spas¬ 
modic contractions of the muscles. At present, as in 1856, the 
thing chiefly relied upon to prove death from strychnine 
poisoning is the physical conditions under which the subject 
died. 

It was this that sent William Palmer to the scaffold. 
Tetanus as the result of disease is continuous, while John 
Parsons Cook recovered from one severe attack to die the fol¬ 
lowing night of another. Idiopathic tetanus, of which the 
defense claimed Mr. Cook died, takes some time, generally 
several days, to develop, and none of the expert witnesses for 
the defense knew of a case where death had ensued within the 
space of a few hours. Mr. Cook died within an hour from the 
time when he was the second time seized with muscular con¬ 
vulsions. Again, he had been able to swallow, shortly before 
death, a thing almost impossible in natural tetanus, while the 
distorted hands and feet, the bowed body and the general 
extreme rigidity of the muscles spoke loudly of strychnine. 

Many witnesses for the defense were quite positive that 
Mr. Cook had died a natural death, but common sense, leaving 
science out of the question, was against them. All the organs 
of his body were found in a healthy condition, there being 
absolutely nothing upon which to predicate death except the 
administration of a subtle vegetable poison, which had been so 
completely absorbed as to defy science to prove its presence 
in the dead body. 

William Palmer did not undertake his work blindly, but 
exercised an almost devilish ingenuity. The administration 


400 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


of antimony—doubtless in the form of tartar emetic—was for a 
two-fold purpose. In the first place, it produced a violent 
illness which, the cause being unknown, was well calculated to 
disarm suspicion when it terminated fatally. Secondly, the 
weakening effect of continual vomiting and consequent neglect 
of food could not but render the body of the unfortunate man 
more susceptible to the effects of strychnine, thus permitting 
Palmer to take his life with comparatively small doses, which 
lessened—as the sequel showed—the chance of the examining 
chemists finding any of the poison in his remains. 

But for the numerous detailed incriminating actions of 
Palmer, it is doubtful if he could have ever been convicted; 
as it was, it took the jury only a little more than two hours to 
settle his fate. Palmer refused to say anything in his own 
defense, and was, on May 27, 1856, formally sentenced to 
death by Lord Campbell. For the sake of the example upon 
the community, he was removed from Newgate to the county 
of Stafford, and was there executed a few days later. 

As already stated, the trial of William Palmer is still the 
leading case in criminal jurisprudence where the charge of 
strychnine poisoning is set up. In all such cases, while the 
finding of strychnine in the remains is very important, the 
circumstances attending the death are all paramount, since no 
known disease produces symptoms that correspond exactly to 
those induced by the product of the deadly nux vomica. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


H. H. HOLMES, THE M U LT I-M U R D E R ER 

As a rule, theories are constructed with reference to exist¬ 
ing- cases, which are often distorted, frequently misstated, to 
match the vagaries or extravagant ideas of the author or lec¬ 
turer. But true theories, well founded and logically worked out, 
seldom long lack confirmation. Many scientists, astronomers 
in particular, have lived to see their abstract theories amply 
demonstrated by indisputable facts. The theory of homicidal 
impulse advanced, or rather suggested, by the author, is 
founded upon many well-defined cases, which seem to quite 
clearly establish its truth. Since the bulk of the present 
volume was written, two instances have arisen in this country, 
or rather have been brought to a termination, which seem to 
go far toward demonstrating the validity of the position that 
there is such a thing as an inherent disposition to take human 
life. One of these, the Hayward case, is set forth at length in 
another chapter. The other, which is much more striking, 
supporting the suggestion of homicidal impulse as pointedly as 
though it were a bit of fiction written for that one purpose, 
forms the subject-matter of the present chapter. 

The case of Herman Webster Mudgett, better known under 
his principal alias of H. H. Holmes, is almost unique in the 
annals of crime. The present volume, which deals with the 
murderous work of the most diabolical villains who have, in 
different ages of the world, disgraced the name of man, con¬ 
tains no instance at all comparable with that of this wretch, 
who took a fiendish delight in causing the cruel death of his 
fellow creatures, and died believing that he was fast assuming 
the physical form of his master, the devil. According to his 
own confession, Holmes (the wretch will be so designated in 

401 


402 


MURDER 'IN ALL AGES 

the present narrative) not only murdered men, women and 
innocent children, from mingled motives of cupidity and the 
gratification of his murderous impulse, but, failing more 
lucrative employment in the domain of crime, imitated Burke 
and Hare, and killed people that he might sell their bodies for 
purposes of dissection. Aside from being a multi-murderer, 
Holmes committed enough other crimes to render his name 
infamous. He was a bigamist, horse thief, forger, defrauder of 
life insurance companies and general all-around swindler. And 
yet for years this human monstrosity came in almost daily 
contact with bright, discerning people, with whom he usually 
passed as an honest man and a good fellow. The entire realm 
of fiction contains little that is more extravagant, cruel and 
morbid than the actual life of H. H. Holmes. 

It was through the famous Pitezel case that the manifold 
murders of Holmes were discovered and made public. Many 
of them were ferreted out by detectives and clearly estab¬ 
lished, but the crimes of the wretch far outnumbered the 
wildest estimates of those who had formed the best ideas of 
his character, and believed him capable of committing any 
conceivable act of cruelty. The full enormity of his offenses 
he published to the world in a confession, written by him in 
prison about a month before his execution. This confession 
was published in a large number of newspapers in different 
parts of the country, and brought him a considerable sum of 
money, $10,000, it is said. In this statement Holmes confessed 
to having committed twenty-seven different murders. He 
delighted in taking human life and watching the suffering of 
his victims, as clearly appears from his own statements. Next 
to this he seems to have derived his greatest pleasure from 
devising and giving utterance to ingeniously constructed, plau¬ 
sible falsehoods. 

In the domain of fabrication Herman Webster Mudgett, alias 
H. H. Holmes, is entitled to a very high place. With him 
lying assumed the form of an art, and, until his real character 
was laid bare, his manifold lies readily passed current, and to 
this, in a large measure at least, his wonderful success in so 
long concealing his crimes must be attributed. After his 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 4 oj 


arrest he told many different stories, modifying them as the 
discovery of the facts by the authorities compelled him to do. 
At first the detectives placed considerable reliance upon his 
confessions and believed that he had “made a clean breast” of 
everything; but as time passed his ability as an artistic liar 
began to dawn upon them, and they came to distrust and 
finally disbelieve everything he said. It has been shown that 
he told some falsehoods in the confession he furnished the 
press while awaiting execution, yet it is believed that it was 
true in the main. His object in exaggerating doubtless was 
to enhance the value of the manuscript, and at the same time 
feed his inordinate thirst for notoriety. The Pitezel case thus 
forms the logical starting-point for an account of the criminal 
career of this wretch, who may well be classed among the 
most cruel and murderous of all who have disgraced the image 
of the Divine Being in which they were created. 

Were it not for the circumstance that this remarkable case 
is of but recent origin, and many of the facts fresh in the 
public mind, it would almost be necessary to explain that the 
present narrative is not fiction, but fact; not the invention of 
a second Edgar A. Poe, but the true story of the wicked deeds 
of a man fertile in invention and resources, possessed of 
nerves of steel and a heart as hard and cold as a stone. The 
life of this man served but one good purpose; it furnishes a 
frightful example of the depths to which thirst for gold and 
blood—cupidity and the homicidal impulse—will sometimes 
reduce those who yield themselves up to the spirit of evil. 

“b. f. perry, patents bought and sold.” 

In the latter part of August, 1894, this legend, painted on 
a sheet of muslin, and displayed in front of the windows of a 
house known as No. 1316 Callowhill Street, Philadelphia, 
caught the eye of a passer-by. This was a carpenter and 
inventor named Eugene Smith. He had recently patented a 
saw-set, which had so far proved buried capital. Here was 
his opportunity, and he lost no time in entering the house, a 
red brick structure of two and a half stories, and broaching his 
business to the proprietor, a tall, raw-boned man. Perry 
wished to see a model of the device, and Smith called with it 


404 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the following day. Learning that Smith was a carpenter, 
Perry employed him to construct a rough counter in the store. 
While at work on this a man entered, made a sign to the 
proprietor and passed upstairs, closely followed by the latter. 
This visitor, who was evidently entirely familiar with the 
premises, Smith afterwards identified as H. H. Holmes, his 
testimony forming one of the strongest links in the chain which 
dragged the inhuman scoundrel to the scaffold. 

But Smith was destined to cut a more important figure in 
the tragedy that was then taking form. His work done, the 
carpenter departed, but returned on the afternoon of Mon¬ 
day, September 3d. He came then in his capacity of inventor, 
to ascertain what was being done about the sale of his patent. 
He found the door unlocked and the store deserted. Thinking 
Perry would soon return, he seated himself and waited with 
the best patience he could command. After a time he grew % 
weary and quitted the place, but not until he had hallooed for 
the proprietor, without receiving any response. Early the 
next morning he returned, and found the place exactly as he 
had left it; the door was unlocked, and the apartment, includ¬ 
ing some articles of clothing that he had particularly noticed 
on the preceding day, exactly as he had left it. He called 
aloud the name Perry several times, and, receiving no 
response, passed through the store and ascended the stairs. 
In a back room, lying on the floor, with the face badly dis¬ 
figured, was the decomposing body of a man. Losing no 
time, he repaired to the nearest police-station, and gave the 
alarm. Two officers at once hurried to the scene, calling on 
their way for a physician, Dr. Scott. 

They found the body in a very natural and peaceful 
posture. It was rigid and straight, the right arm resting 
across the breast, and this notwithstanding the circumstance 
that the body was badly burned. The left arm lay close to the 
body, and the inner portion of it was not burned. The mus¬ 
tache on one side was burned off. The clothing was the same, 
to all appearances, that Smith had seen Perry wear, and there 
was little doubt but what the dead man was he. On either 
side of the body lay fragments of a large broken bottle, a pipe 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 405 

filled with tobacco, and a burnt match. There were evi¬ 
dences that an explosion had taken place, though pieces of the 
glass were found within the bottle, as would not have been 
the case if it had burst. The stomach showed alcoholic irrita¬ 
tion, and emitted an odor of chloroform. The coroner’s phy¬ 
sician testified that death had been caused by chloroform 
poisoning, though the verdict of the jury left it an open ques¬ 
tion whether death had resulted from poison or inhalation of 
the flame. The case presented a veritable mystery on its 
face, and the police were divided as to whether or not the man 
had committed suicide, no one suggesting that he had met 
with foul play. The body of Perry, as the coroner’s jury had 
decided the dead man to be, lay unclaimed in the morgue for 
eleven days, and was then buried in the potter’s field. 

Before the burial, however, the officers of the Fidelity 
Mutual Life Association and the coroner received letters from 
a young attorney of St. Louis, named Jeptha D. Howe, stating 
that he represented the wife of one Benjamin F. Pitezel, whose 
life was insured in said company for $10,000. He stated that 
the man found dead at No. 1316 Callowhill street, was really 
Pitezel, who had been known as B. F. Perry. He concluded 
by saying that he would soon be in Philadelphia with wit¬ 
nesses to identify the body and claim the insurance. Ac¬ 
cording to the company’s books such a policy had been issued 
in Chicago, and an inquiry was at once forwarded to that office. 

At this juncture Holmes appears upon the scene. The 
cashier of the Chicago office, knowing that Holmes was 
acquainted with Pitezel, went to Wilmette, a suburb of 
Chicago, to interview him. He was absent, but his wife 
offered to write him about the matter. It may be mentioned 
here that Holmes had two other wives living, and was not 
legally married to the one domiciled in Wilmette, although 
she was ignorant of the fact, and of his villainy as well. Mr. 
Cass, the cashier of the Chicago office, gave her a clipping 
from a Chicago paper, which stated that the body had been 
found in Chicago. On September 17th Holmes wrote Cass a 
letter from Indianapolis, which was simply wonderful in its 
ingenuity. He stated that he knew Pitezel quite well, and 


40 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


gave an accurate description of him. He offered to come to 
Chicago, to identify the body, provided his expenses were 
paid, as he was not in good circumstances. Two days later he 
wrote Mr. Cass a second letter, in which he stated that he had 
learned from the Philadelphia papers that the body had been 
found in that city. He said he was going to Baltimore, and 
would call at the company’s office in Philadelphia in a few 
days. 

September 20th he called upon Mr. Fouse, president of the 
insurance company in Philadelphia, and was informed of the 
verdict. The following day Jeptha D. Howe called upon Mr. 
Fouse and presented a letter of introduction from R. J. Lin¬ 
den, superintendent of police of Philadelphia, which he had 
secured on the strength of a letter from a St. Louis party. He 
also produced a power of attorney from Mrs. Pitezel. He 
explained that some financial complications had induced 
Pitezel to pass under an assumed name. In the afternoon of 
the same day he brought Alice, Pitezel’s daughter, a girl of 
about fifteen, to the office, explaining that Mrs. Pitezel was 
sick and unable to come. She corroborated the description 
already given by Holmes and Howe. In answer to a ques¬ 
tion, Howe stated that he did not know Holmes. As a matter 
of fact this was false, Holmes having secured the services of 
Howe, who seems to have been in the conspiracy to defraud 
the company. At this most opportune moment Holmes came 
into the office and was introduced to Howe as a gentleman 
who had known Pitezel for years. The two shook hands and 
addressed each other as if meeting for the first time. 

Mr. Fouse then suggested that, as the body was to be 
disinterred, marks of identification should be agreed upon. 
This was done, a cut on the leg, a wart on the neck, a bruised 
thumb-nail, and certain peculiarities of the teeth being sug¬ 
gested and noted down. The following day, September 22d, 
the body was disinterred and identified, Holmes pointing out 
the distinctive marks. After a consultation, the officers of the 
company agreed that the identification was complete, and on 
the Monday following paid over to Howe $9,715.85, the 
amount of the policy less the expenses of identification. The 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 407 

company paid Holmes ten dollars to defray his expenses in 
coming from Baltimore, and the second act in the great 
tragedy was over. 

“Like vaulting ambition,” greed often o’erleaps itself and 
falls on the other side. H. H. Holmes had brutally killed 
Benjamin F. Pitezel, which was very far from being the first 
of his murderous deeds. As will hereafter appear, the scheme 
invented and carried into effect by Holmes was simply devilish 
in its ingenuity, but it had one very weak point. Marion C. 
Hedgepeth, confined in the city prison of St. Louis on a 
charge of train-robbery, knew of the plan to defraud the 
insurance company by presenting proofs of the pretended 
death of B. F. Pitezel. In July, 1894, Holmes had been con¬ 
fined in the same prison on a charge of swindling, a predica¬ 
ment from which he soon escaped. While there he formed 
the acquaintance of Hedgepeth. There is a fellow-feeling 
between almost all criminals, and besides, Hedgepeth was 
notorious, which seems to have led Holmes to trust him. At 
any rate, he unfolded his scheme for defrauding the Fidelity 
Mutual Life Association out of $10,000. He told the robber 
that the only thing he lacked was a lawyer who could be 
trusted to act in the matter, and offered to give Hedgepeth 
$500 if he would secure him one. As the robber badly needed 
that amount to obtain his release, he sent for his attorney, J. 
D. Howe, whom he introduced to Holmes, after which an 
understanding was reached. Howe claimed that he went into 
the transaction for the purpose of securing funds to use in the 
interest of his client, Hedgepeth, in whom he was much inter¬ 
ested. 

As already detailed, Howe secured the money, of which he 
retained $2,500 as his fee; Holmes secured about $7,000, 
$5,000 of which he made Mrs. Pitezel believe he had paid to 
take up a note of her husband, while the widow was given 
about $400. In the meantime, Holmes conveniently forgot to 
pay the imprisoned train-robber the promised $500, and the 
lawyer took no active steps to obtain his release. About two 
weeks after the money was paid over to Howe, Hedgepeth 
wrote Major Lawrence Harrigan, chief of the St. Louis police, 


408 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


a letter in which he betrayed the whole plan. He was famil¬ 
iar with the affair, and told a straight story. He stated that 
Howe had called upon him in the prison after his return from 
Philadelphia, and told him all the particulars, even to the 
circumstance that Holmes had telegraphed the premium to the 
Chicago office of the company on the very last day it would 
have been received. The prisoner was indignant at the treat¬ 
ment he had received, hence the disclosures. Thus a breach 
of faith on the part of the astute Holmes, a failure to live up to 
the old maxim touching honor among thieves, led to his undoing. 

Inspector Gary of the Philadelphia police happened to be 
in St. Louis on business, and the matter was at once brought 
to his attention. He called upon Hedgepeth, and secured his 
statement in the form of an affidavit. The officers of the 
insurance company in Philadelphia placed no reliance upon 
the disclosure, but Gary was satisfied that the man had told 
the truth. He ascertained that the premium had been tele¬ 
graphed just as he had said, and this was a strong confirma¬ 
tion, since how could he have learned the circumstance 
except in the manner he claimed? The inspector finally 
persuaded the officers of the company to make an investiga¬ 
tion. Holmes was traced from place to place, and was finally 
located and placed under surveillance. He was shadowed to 
Boston, where he was arrested November 17, 1894. The 
charge upon which he was apprehended was horse-stealing in 
Texas. Seeing one of the officers of the insurance company at 
the police-station, he suggested that he was probably wanted 
in Philadelphia instead of Texas. As a matter of fact he 
feared the summary justice frequently meted out to people 
who make mistakes about the ownership of horses in the Lone 
Star State, and had no mind to be taken there. 

Secured in the Boston police-station, the fertile brain of the 
swindler-murderer began to evolve lies, and he made a state¬ 
ment on November 19th. He was examined at great length, 
and the following points, among many others, were elicited: 
He admitted that he and Pitezel had conspired to swindle the 
insurance company. He had secured a body in New York, 
from parties whose names he refused to divulge, and taken it to 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 409 


Philadelphia in a trunk, the check of which he had given to 
Pitezel. He next saw him in Cincinnati some two weeks after 
the insurance money had been paid over. Holmes had taken 
three of Pitezel’s children to Detroit, and their father had 
seen them there, against his advice, which enhanced the 
dangers of the plot being discovered. Holmes put Pitezel into 
a trunk, which he himself lifted into the back of a buggy, and 
drove out of the city, when he released the occupant. They 
were both involved in trouble at Fort Worth, Texas, and had 
reason to fear that officers were upon their track. Holmes 
took the children out to Pitezel, and that was the last he saw 
of any of them. He believed that they were in South America, 
as it had been agreed that they should go there. He had tele¬ 
graphed to Mrs. Pitezel, who was with her parents at Galva, 
Ill., to go to Chicago and from, there to Detroit. After 
Pitezel had seen his children he was fearful to have them meet 
their mother, lest the secret might reach the ears of outsiders 
through their talk. He begged Holmes to keep her in the 
dark as to his and their whereabouts for a time, which he 
undertook to do. On this journey Mrs. Pitezel was accom¬ 
panied by her daughter Dessie, a girl of eighteen, and a young 
baby. Holmes admitted that he had taken the woman and 
her children from place to place in Canada and New England, 
constantly promising to unite her to her husband and the 
other three children. This policy was pursued until they 
were arrested in Boston, for Mrs. Pitezel had been appre¬ 
hended at the same time. During all these wanderings, 
Holmes was accompanied by Miss Yoke, who believed herself 
to be his wife, yet she never met Mrs. Pitezel, nor knew any¬ 
thing about her presence, though they were often stopping in 
close proximity to each other. 

The reader will not need to be told that, for the most part, 
all this was a tissue of lies. B. F. Pitezel was dead. Until 
October 25, 1894, Holmes was traveling with a party of 
seven, divided into three detachments: himself and wife; Mrs. 
Pitezel, Dessie and the baby; the two other Pitezel girls, 
Nellie and Alice. The boy, Howard, he had already mur¬ 
dered at Irvington, a suburb of Indianapolis. 


4 io 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


On November 20, 1894, Holmes and Mrs. Pitezel were 
taken to Philadelphia, they having consented to go without the 
formality of a requisition. On the way Holmes assured Dessie 
that her father was alive, and that she would soon see him. 
He told the officers that Pitezel had done his work in a very 
bungling manner, and laughed as he talked about it. Howe 
was brought from St. Louis. In due time Holmes, Pitezel 
and Mrs. Carrie Pitezel were indicted for conspiracy to 
defraud. 

As time passed on Mrs. Pitezel, who was confined in the 
county prison, became quite communicative, and gave the 
authorities many clues that promised to develop into 
something tangible and aid in locating her husband and chil¬ 
dren. But nothing came of them, although they were care¬ 
fully followed out, and the authorities began to believe that 
the body of Pitezel, and not a substitute, lay buried in the 
potter’s field. In the meantime, Holmes had ample time for 
reflection, and evidently employed it to good advantage. One 
thing that occurred shortly after his commitment to the prison 
must have greatly disturbed him. Inspector Perry asked him 
who helped him put the body in the trunk in New York City. 
To which Holmes replied, that he did it alone, a trick he had 
learned at Ann Arbor. The inspector then asked him the 
following question, to which he made no answer: “Can you 
tell me where I can find a medical man or a medical authority, 
which will instruct me how to re-stiffen a body after rigor 
mortis has once been broken?” 

On December 27, 1894, Plolmes sent for R. J. Linden, 
Esq., superintendent of police of the Department of Public 
Safety of Philadelphia. He promptly acknowledged that he 
had lied in his statement made in Boston, and volunteered to 
make a new one which should be strictly true. This he dic¬ 
tated to a stenographer. He said, in brief, that the plot to 
defraud the insurance company had been arranged by Pitezel 
and himself in the fall of 1893, and that Mrs. Pitezel was not 
informed of it until July, 1894. He told of meeting Hedge¬ 
peth in the St. Louis jail, and how, through him, he became 
acquainted with Howe, He admitted that he had promised to 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 411 


give Hedgepeth $300 of the proceeds. He and Pitezel went to 
New York, where they arranged the details of the scheme. 
Pitezel then went to Philadelphia, where he rented the house 
No. 1316 Callowhill street, which he fitted up to bear out the 
claim that he was a dealer in patents. Holmes was also in 
Philadelphia, though stopping at a different place. Septem¬ 
ber 1st Pitezel told Holmes that his baby was sick, and that he 
would have to go home, at the same time asking him for 
money. It was arranged that Holmes should go in his place. 
The next day, which was Sunday, Holmes repaired to the 
Callowhill house. It was about half-past ten in the morning 
when he called and admitted himself by the aid of a key 
which he carried. Not finding Pitezel he went out, but 
returned about noon. After reading a morning paper for a 
while, he went to his desk, where he found a paper upon 
which was written in cipher: “Get letter out of bottle in 
cupboard.” He secured the letter, which informed him that 
he would find Pitezel, the writer, dead upstairs, if he could 
manage to kill himself. On the third floor he found the dead 
body of the man he sought. He had died from chloroform 
poisoning. He carried the body down to the second floor and 
arranged it as it was found by Smith. This was done about 
three o’clock in the afternoon. To carry out the programme 
that had been previously arranged, he took a hammer and 
broke a bottle containing benzine, chloroform and ammonia; 
this was to convey the idea that an explosion had occurred. 
He then poured some of the fluid over the body, and set fire to 
it. Having arranged matters to his satisfaction, he went to 
his lodgings, reaching there about five p. m. He at once 
packed up his effects, and, accompanied by his wife, who was 
ill, left the city that night for St. Louis. 

Learning from a St. Louis paper of Wednesday that the 
body had been discovered, he looked up Mrs. Pitezel and 
family, who were in St. Louis. They had seen the report, and 
the children were much distressed, though the mother was 
not, as she supposed that the original plan of substitution had 
been carried into effect. That night he saw Howe, and 
arranged with him to collect the insurance. Howe did not 


412 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


suppose that the body was that of Pitezel. He explained that 
Pitezel had taken the chloroform through a tube connected 
with a bottle. These Holmes carried away with him. He 
stated that he had given the three children to a Miss Minnie 
Williams, and that they were then with her in London, Eng¬ 
land. 

After this statement was made, George S. Graham, the dis¬ 
trict attorney, interviewed the prisoner. He told him that he 
strongly suspected that he had not only murdered Pitezel, but 
the three children as well, and called upon him to give infor¬ 
mation that would aid the authorities in locating the latter, if 
they were alive. Holmes answered that he last saw Howard 
in Detroit, when he gave him into the keeping of Miss Wil¬ 
liams, who took him to Buffalo. Shortly after this he took 
Alice and Nellie to Toronto, and a few days later, put them 
on a train for Niagara Falls, where Miss Williams was to meet 
them. He thoughtfully pinned $400 in large bills in Nellie’s 
dress, that the party might not lack for money. At New 
York City, he said, Miss Williams had dressed Nellie in boy’s 
clothes, to throw any inquiring detectives off the track, after 
which the four had gone to London. 

The scoundrel, who, the reader will not need be informed, 
was constructing lies out of the whole cloth, told Mr. Graham 
that he and Miss Williams had agreed upon a cipher for use 
in communicating and that an advertisement so written, pub¬ 
lished in the New York Sunday Herald, would be certain to 
meet her eye, as she would be looking for it. The cipher 
was as follows: 

REPUBLICAN republican 

CbepBc 

ABCDEFGHIJ klmnopqrstuvwxyz. Thus 

Holmes. 

In the New York Herald of Sunday, June, 2, 1895, an 
article appeared commenting upon the Holmes-Pitezel case, 
while the following advertisement was inserted in the per¬ 
sonal column: 

“Minnie Williams, Adele Covelle, Geraldine Wanda.— 
AplbenRun nb CBRc EBLbrB 10th PREeB a Bnucu PCAe- 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 413 


UcBu RubuPB. Also write pk PRaaAB cbepBa. Address, 
George S. Graham, City Hall, Philadelphia, Penn., U. S. A.” 

This cipher would have conveyed to Miss Williams, who, 
by the way, Holmes had murdered some time before, the fol¬ 
lowing message: “Important to hear before 10th. Cable. 
Return children at once. Also write Mr. Massie. ” Holmes 
had told Mr. Graham that Miss Williams had opened a mas¬ 
sage establishment in London at No. 80 Veder or Vadar 
Street, but a cable inquiry established the fact that there were 
no such streets in London. 

Minnie and Nannie Williams were two sisters whose sudden 
disappearance had excited attention. They were last seen in 
the company of Holmes, and it was now suspected that they 
had met with foul play at his hands. A piece of real estate 
which they owned at Fort Worth, Texas, was found to have 
been conveyed to Benjamin F. Pitezel, under the alias of Ben¬ 
ton T. Lyman, from whom it had passed into the possession of 
Holmes. That scoundrel had told a most improbable story 
to the effect that Minnie Williams had killed her sister in a 
moment of rage, and that he, to shield her, had sunk the body 
in Lake Michigan. The authorities believed that the three 
Pitezel children had been murdered, but this story of sinking 
the body in the lake had left them little hope of ever finding 
their remains, since he was quite likefy to have carried his 
lying theory into practice when occasion presented. A bundle 
of letters written by Alice and Nettie Pitezel to their mother 
and grandparents, together with a number written by Mrs. 
Pitezel, in Detroit and Toronto, which had evidently been 
given to Holmes to post, were found in his possession when he 
was arrested, and furnished tangible clues as to the wanderings 
of the party after Holmes started out with them. After¬ 
wards Mrs. Pitezel had, to all appearances, told everything 
she knew about the mystery, which, most unfortunately, was 
very little, and on June 19, 1895, she was set at liberty. 

Both the authorities and the insurance company were now 
satisfied that Holmes was a murderer, and it was resolved that 
a systematic search be made for the missing children, the 
company supplying the necessary funds. The investigation 


414 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


was placed in the hands of Frank P.Geyer, for twenty years a 
member of the Philadelphia detective bureau. The most 
important points of his long and remarkably clear investigation 
are presented, taken from a very comprehensive report of the 
great case, published by him after he had successfully com¬ 
pleted his long and laborious investigation. 

The detective was provided with photographs of Holmes, 
Pitezel, Alice, Nellie, Howard, Dessie, Mrs. Pitezel, and also 
of the trunk Holmes claimed to have used in getting Pitezel 
out of the city of Detroit, and the trunk the three children 
had with them. Thus equipped, he arrived in Cincinnati on 
June 27, 1895. He found that Holmes had been there on 
September 28, 1894, and had registered at a cheap hotel as 
“Alex. E. Cook and three children.” It was learned that on 
that day he had rented a house, paying $15 in advance. The 
night of September 29th the party stopped at another hotel. 
Holmes partly furnished the house, but left after two days. 
Doubtless his plan was to murder the children there. As 
some of the children’s letters were dated Indianapolis, Geyer 
went to that city. He found that “Etta Pitsel” had registered 
at the Stubbins Plouse, September 24, 1894. By means of 
photographs, she was identified as Alice Pitezel. On Septem¬ 
ber 28th, the clerk had placed her on a Cincinnati train. This 
was in compliance with a request from Holmes, who tele¬ 
graphed from St. Louis under his common alias of Howard. 
Certain that the murderer had returned to Indianapolis, the 
detective continued his search. He finally discovered that, 
on October 1st, the “three Canning children, Galva, Illinois,” 
had registered at the Hotel English. Beyond a doubt they 
were the Pitezel children. Geyer also discovered that 
Holmes’ wife had been in the city from the 18th to the 24th of 
September, 1894, the time when Holmes was in Philadelphia 
identifying the body of Pitezel. From September 30th to Octo¬ 
ber 4th, the woman was staying in a hotel within a hundred 
feet of the one where the children were, but knew nothing 
about their presence. 

Geyer learned that Holmes had told a Mr. Ackelow, at 
whose hotel the children had stopped in Indianapolis, that 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 415 


Howard was a bad boy and he wanted to put him in a reform- 
school. From this he had concluded that he had killed the 
boy. Receiving information from the insurance company that 
Holmes and the boy had been seen in Detroit, the detective 
started for that city. On the way he stopped at Chicago, and 
made a fruitless effort to locate the children’s trunk, which 
Holmes claimed he had left at a hotel on West Madison street. 
While in Chicago he visited Holmes’ famous “Castle” on 
Sixty-third street, and interviewed the janitor, Pat Quinlan, 
who was supposed to know a good deal about Holmes’ villainy, 
but learned nothing about the children. 

On the evening of July 4th the officer reached Detroit, and 
the next day began his investigations. He soon learned that 
Holmes had, about October 15, 1894, rented a house at 241 
East Forest Avenue. He also found that the two girls had 
been at a hotel on the night of October 12th. When he rented 
the house, Holmes told the agent that he wanted it for a 
widowed sister with three children, who would soon be there. 
In the meantime, he found that Holmes and his wife had been 
at another hotel on the same day, under assumed names. An 
examination of the house Holmes had rented led to no 
important developments. After leaving the hotel, Holmes 
and his wife had stopped for four or five days at a boarding¬ 
house under their own names. At the same time, Mrs. 
Pitezel, Dessie and the baby had been stopping at a hotel in 
Detroit, subject to the orders of Holmes, who claimed that he 
was about to unite her to her husband and children. That H. 
H. Holmes possessed executive ability in addition to being a 
villain, none can doubt. In some manner, probably by play¬ 
ing upon their fears, the monster induced the children to 
remain in their room, and thus reduced the chance of a meet¬ 
ing with their mother to a minimum. On the 18th and 19th 
of October Holmes removed the three sections of his party to 
Toronto, where he domiciled them so that they did not meet. 
On the morning of July 8th Geyer arrived in Toronto, where 
he was destined to make horrible discoveries. 

The detective was not long in finding the hotels at which 
Mrs. Pitezel and Holmes and wife had stopped upon their 


416 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


arrival there, but some time elapsed before he encountered the 
legend upon a register: “Alice and Nellie Canning, Detroit.” 
It was easily established that they were the two Pitezel 
girls. After much labor and many disappointments, Geyer 
finally located a house which Holmes had rented while the two 
missing girls were in Toronto. This was at No. 16 St. Vincent 
street. Inquiry and an exhibition of the photographs soon 
established the fact that Plolmes and the girls had been there 
at the time. The only furniture brought to the house was an 
old bed, a mattress and large trunk. An old man living next 
door had loaned Holmes a spade. He said that a widowed 
sister of his was to occupy the house, and he wanted to 
arrange a place in which she could store potatoes. A place in 
the cellar was found where the earth seemed to have been 
recently disturbed, and, digging down to a depth of about 
three feet, the badly decomposed remains of the two unfor¬ 
tunate little girls were reached. Mrs. Pitezel was sent for and 
came at once, though she was almost in a state of collapse 
when she reached Toronto. She easily identified the remains, 
the clothing and some other articles, furnishing the most 
satisfactory basis for reaching the conclusion. 

The boy, Howard, remained to be accounted for, and 
this presented the most difficult problem, since the detective 
had already covered the entire ground without coming any 
nearer solving the mystery than when he started. 

There had been some evidence tending to establish the cir¬ 
cumstance that a small boy, presumably Howard Pitezel, had 
been seen with Holmes in Detroit. After going carefully 
through it, however, the detective decided that it was a mis¬ 
take. A letter written by Nellie while in Detroit contained 
the brief but significant phrase: “Howard is not with us 
now. ’ ’ There is something strangely pathetic about this. At 
the time it was written by one of the two lonely and homesick 
girls, their mother, older sister and baby brother were not 
more than a block away from them. Beyond a doubt the 
omission to mention where Howard and they had parted com¬ 
pany was due to instructions on the part of Holmes, who 
probably told them that they would imperil their father’s 



H. H. HOLMES ASPHYXIATING THE PITEZEL GIRLS.—PAGE 428. 























HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 417 


safety by explaining where Howard was, or where they had 
seen him last. Satisfied that Howard had not been brought 
to Detroit with the girls, the detective returned to Indian¬ 
apolis. 

Arriving there, he was given every possible assistance by 
the police, and received no end of suggestions and clues as to 
houses that had been rented about the time the boy had disap¬ 
peared. Holmes seems to have had a mania for renting 
houses when he had dark deeds to transact, and it was fairly 
certain that he had followed his rule in disposing of Howard. 
For along time there were no results; scores of clues were 
run down, but none of them developed anything. After the 
city had been exhausted, Geyer and his assistants began upon 
the suburbs. Before this last task was undertaken, the detect¬ 
ive went to Chicago to run down some clues reported there, 
and then returned to Philadelphia to consult with the district 
attorney and others. Finally, in the latter part of August, he 
returned to Indianapolis, after having in vain searched several 
Indiana and Ohio towns. By August 27th every outlying 
town except Irvington, six miles from Indianapolis, had 
been searched without results. On that day the officers 
visited that beautiful suburb, and soon learned that a man 
answering the description of Holmes had rented a house there 
in October, 1894. Photographs of Holmes and Howard 
Pitezel were recognized by several people, and the officer felt 
that his long search was about to be rewarded. 

On entering the house, a one and a half story cottage 
standing alone, the party at once descended to the cellar and 
began a systematic search. Nothing incriminating was found 
there, the floor, part of which was of cement and part of hard 
clay, not having been disturbed. Under a small piazza was 
found fragments of a trunk. This was soon identified as the 
one for which Geyer had so long been in search. In the barn, 
a large coal stove, called the “Peninsular Oak,” was found, 
and some articles of furniture. On this stove, which was over 
forty inches high and some twenty-two inches in diameter, the 
detective found what he thought to be blood-stains. As a vast 
and curious crowd had collected, which interfered with the 


4iS 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


search, it was abandoned for that day, and the investigating 
party returned to the city. Shortly after their arrival Dr. 
Barnhill, of Irvington, came to Indianapolis with something of 
the utmost importance. This consisted of a small package 
containing pieces of badly incinerated bone, which the doctor 
declared to be, as was subsequently fully established, portions 
of the skull and femur of a child, not over twelve years of age. 
Dr. Barnhill and his partner, Dr. Thompson, had continued 
the search after the detective’s departure. Two small boys 
who were with them began operations on their own account, 
and, in a chimney-hole in the cellar, among a mass of ashes 
and soot, discovered the half-incinerated bones. Geyer at 
once returned to the house, broke a hole in the chimney, and 
carefully sifted its contents. He recovered almost a complete 
set of teeth, the pelvis of the body and a large charred mass 
which proved to be portions of the liver, stomach and spleen. 
Portions of the iron fastenings of the trunk were also dis¬ 
covered. A boy’s coat, proven at the inquest to have belonged 
to Howard Pitezel, was found in the possession of a grocer, 
with whom Holmes had left it, saying that the boy would call 
for it, which he never did. The inquest was held next day, 
Mrs. Pitezel being present, and resulted in a verdict that the 
remains were those of Howard Pitezel, who had come to his 
death at the hands of H. H. Holmes. 

H. H. Holmes was now in great demand. Toronto, Chicago 
and Indianapolis each claimed that they could convict him of 
murder. In Chicago the excitement had been intense. Police 
investigations indicated that a number of people associated 
with the monster had disappeared, but no really tangible evi¬ 
dence was secured upon which a prosecution for murder could 
be reasonably prosecuted Holmes was indicted in Philadel¬ 
phia, in September, 1895, for the murder of Benjamin F. 
Pitezel. The case was set for trial October 28th following. 
When the day arrived Holmes’ counsel made a desperate fight 
for a continuance, and failing to secure it, announced that the 
prisoner had discharged them from the case. The court 
ordered them to proceed, but they refused to do it, and left 
the court-room. Hon. Michael Arnold, the trial judge, 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 419 

ordered the case to proceed, and Holmes assumed control of 
his own defense, examining jurors as to their fitness to try the 
case, with an ability that was quite remarkable. On the 
second day of the trial the two young attorneys who claimed 
they had been discharged returned and took charge of the 
prisoner’s defense. Miss Yoke, Holmes’ last wife, and Mrs. 
Pitezel were leading witnesses. During the entire trial the 
accused manifested the most remarkable coolness, amounting 
to apparent unconcern. He admitted that the body found at 
No. 1316 Callowhill Street was that of Pitezel, and the real 
question at issue was whether or not he had committed sui¬ 
cide. The evidence was clear and conclusive, though every¬ 
thing bearing on the murder of the Pitezel children was ruled 
out by the judge. The trial lasted less than a week, the 
defendant being, on October 28, 1895, found guilty of murder 
in the first degree. A motion for a new trial was refused, 
and on November 30, 1895, Herman Webster Mudgett, alias 
H. H. Holmes, was sentenced to death. On an appeal, the 
Supreme Court of Pennsylvania refused to grant the con¬ 
demned man a new trial, and the day of his execution was 
fixed for May 7, 1896. 

Under the date of April 9, 1896, the condemned murderer 
gave out to the press the confession already referred to. It 
was quite voluminous, and, if printed in full, would cover 
some forty pages in the present volume. Doubt has been 
thrown upon some of the details given by Holmes. This was 
to have been expected; a man with his reputation for lying is 
not believed when he sees fit to tell the truth. Again, a man 
who has acquired and developed the “lying habit’’ to the 
extent Holmes did, finds it well-nigh impossible to adhere 
strictly to the truth. That he was a multi-murderer has been 
clearly proven, and there is no reason to believe that the 
detailed statement of his crimes was greatly exaggerated. 
This will impress the reader quite strongly when he reads the 
wretch’s acknowledgment that he was fully within the pos¬ 
session of the homicidal impulse. 

Herman W. Mudgett, alias H. H. Holmes, was born at 
Gilmanton, N. H., May 16, i860. His parents, who were 




420 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


perfectly normal people, are still living. He married in his 
native State, when only about eighteen years of age, Clara A. 
Lovering, whom he soon deserted. In 1878, his first wife 
being still alive, he married Myrta Z. Belknap, under the 
name of Harry Howard Holmes, and in 1894 married Miss 
Yoke. He was educated for a physician at Ann Arbor, 
Mich., after he was married. 

Holmes began his confession by solemnly asserting that he 
would write the full and exact truth, holding back nothing; 
after which he proceeded to compliment the detectives who 
had unearthed the bodies of some of his victims, and fastened 
upon him the awful crime of murder. He proceeded to state 
that at the time of his arrest in 1894 he was a normal man, at 
least to all appearances, though he believed that he had, long 
before, given himself up to the devil. From the time his 
imprisonment began, he claimed that he had physically degen¬ 
erated, and had come to resemble those pictures of the evil one 
portrayed by the medieval artists of the church. 

He stated that he first committed murder in 1886, his vic¬ 
tim being Dr. Robert Leacock, of New Baltimore, Mich., a 
friend and former schoolmate. Knowing that there was a 
large insurance on his life, he enticed him to Chicago, and 
took his life by administering a large dose of laudanum. He 
took the body with him to various places around Grand 
Rapids, Mich., before he was able to dispose of it with safety, 
after which he collected the insurance money. He claims that 
he was greatly troubled with remorse for this first murder. 
“Later,” he wrote, “like the man-eating tiger of the tropical 
jungle whose appetite for blood has once been aroused, I 
roamed about the world seeking whom I could destroy. 
Think of the awful list that follows! Twenty-seven lives, 
men and women, young girls and innocent children, blotted 
out by one monster’s hand, and you, my reader of a tender and 
delicate nature, will do well to read no further, for I will in no 
way spare myself, and he who reads to the end, if he be 
charitable, will, in the words of the district attorney at my 
trial, when the evidence of all these many crimes had been 
collected and placed before him by his trusty assistants, 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 421 

exclaim: ‘God help such a man!’ If uncharitable, or only 
just, will he not rather say: ‘May he be utterly damned!’ and 
that it is almost sufficient to cause one to doubt the wisdom of 
Providence that such a man should have so long been allowed 
to live?” 

According to Holmes’ story, his second victim was a Dr. 
Russell, a tenant of a building owned by him on Sixty-third 
street, Chicago, latterly known as “The Castle.” He claimed 
that during a controversy over the payment of rent due from 
the doctor, he struck him with a heavy chair, killing him 
instantly. He sold the body to a medical college, and after¬ 
wards disposed of the remains of a number of his victims in 
the same manner, receiving from $25 to $45 each for them, 
thus meriting the title of “burker.” 

His next victim, a woman, died as a result of a criminal 
operation, there being two other parties cognizant of it. The 
victim, a Mrs. Julia L. Connor, had, Holmes stated, a little 
daughter named Pearl, whom he killed by poison, because he 
thought she was old enough to remember her mother’s sick¬ 
ness and death, and perhaps make trouble by talking. The 
parties referred to, a man and a woman, Holmes stated to be 
as guilty as himself of this last murder. 

He committed his fifth murder at West Morgantown, Va., 
the victim being a man named Rogers. Learning that he 
carried considerable money about his person, Holmes induced 
him to go on a fishing expedition with him, and killed him by 
a blow on the head with an oar. The body was found a month 
afterwards, but Holmes was not suspected until after his con¬ 
viction in Philadelphia. Holmes claimed that he had a con¬ 
federate in some of the murders he committed, but stated that 
the next crime of this awful character was actually committed 
by him. He had enticed a Southern speculator named Charles 
Cole to come to Chicago. While engaged with him in con¬ 
versation at “The Castle,” the confederate struck him a blow 
on the head with a piece of gas-pipe, which not only deprived 
him of life, but so badly shattered the skull as to render the 
body of little value for purposes of dissection. 

A large number of his murders were committed in his 


422 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


“Castle.” This was a three-story and basement building 
which he erected at Sixty-third and Wallace streets, Chicago. 
On coming to Chicago in 1877 Holmes was employed in a drug 
store in that part of the city, and thus became familiar with 
the locality. He constructed the building not long before the 
opening of the World’s Fair, and claimed that he proposed to 
rent apartments on the second floor to exposition visitors. As 
a matter of fact, it was a regular murder-den. It will seem 
almost incredible, but it is doubtless true, that the wretch’s 
primary object in erecting this building was to provide a con¬ 
venient place to gratify his inordinate lust and murder his 
victims. Holmes made the plans himself and superintended 
the construction, frequently changing the workmen so that no 
one knew of the various intricacies of its' construction. It 
contained a perfect labyrinth of tortuous passages, a blind- 
room for storing stolen property, a number of secret and air¬ 
tight chambers, and a room of steel, thickly lined, with 
cotton-batting and asbestos, to stifle the shrieks of victims. 
From the second floor a death-shaft was constructed to lower 
bodies into the cellar, from whence a hidden passage led to a 
sealed chamber. The cellar contained two large vaults of 
quicklime, and a hidden tank filled with a deadly oil. Then 
there was a first-class crematory for reducing bodies to ashes. 
The whole building was provided with electric devices by 
means of which he could be apprised of the approach of any 
one from any portion of the building. In devilish ingenuity, 
the “Holmes Castle” far surpassed the fictitious one described 
by Mrs. Rad cliff e in the “Mysteries of Udolpho.” 

Holmes possessed a peculiar power of fascinating women. 
His manner was most courteous and polite, his voice sweet 
and well modulated, his eyes bright and penetrating, yet soft 
and insidious. This wonderful power he constantly exercised 
and numbered his victims by the score. He says in his con¬ 
fession that his seventh victim, a servant-girl, was murdered 
in the “Castle.” An employ^ of his, named Pat Quinlan, was 
infatuated with the girl, and Holmes feared it would result in 
his leaving him. Before locking his victim in the close vault 
to die of slow suffocation, he forced her to write letters to 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 423 


Quinlan and others, stating that she was going west, and 
would not return. After this followed three murders; that of 
a married woman, her unborn child and niece, the latter a 
young lady. The two women surprised him as he was prepar¬ 
ing the body of his last victim for shipment. He succeeded in 
locking them in the vault, where he suffocated them, but not 
until, by promising them their lives on the condition of their 
leaving the city, he had induced them to write letters inform¬ 
ing the married lady’s husband that they had grown weary of 
him and were going away. The depravity of a wretch .who 
could deliberately recount such baseness and cruelty, even 
granting that he exaggerated or lied in his story, can hardly 
be conceived. 

Much has been written of the case of Miss Emmeline G. 
Cigrand, of Dwight, Ill., who disappeared most mysteriously 
while in the employ of Holmes as a stenographer. Holmes 
says that she became his mistress, and that he disposed of her 
because she was about to marry a young man whom she had 
known at Dwight. His first idea was to kill the prospective 
bridegroom—the day for the wedding had been set—and 
failing to accomplish his end, he determined to murder her 
instead. When she called to bid him good-bye, on the very 
day fixed for her marriage, he brutally locked her in his vault, 
so strongly suggestive of Bluebeard’s closet, and left her to die 
a lingering death. 

Holmes declared that his next victim was a beautiful young 
girl named Rosine Van Jassand, whom he induced to come to 
a fruit store that he seems to have established on Milwaukee 
Avenue, Chicago, for the one purpose of entrapping innocent 
girls. He compelled her to live with him for some time, but, 
tiring of her, killed her with poison. He claimed to have 
buried her remains in the store basement. It is altogether 
likely that this story is no exaggeration, and that his victim 
was Edna Van Tassel, who was employed by Holmes and 
disappeared in 1893. It is probable that he killed her in the 
“Castle.” 

Soon after this murder he put an end to the life of his jan¬ 
itor, Robert Latimer. This man knew something of Holmes’ 


424 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


fraudulent schemes in the past, and undertook to extort “hush 
money” from him. He could not have made a greater mis¬ 
take, and paid for it with his life, his body going to a medical 
college. The monster declared that he locked him in a secret 
room and left him to starve to death. Finally the poor 
wretch’s pleadings became unbearable, and the “kind-hearted” 
Holmes killed him, in what manner, he did not say. In his 
confession Holmes numbered his victims, and the fourteenth 
was a Miss Anna Betts, whom he killed by substituting a 
poisonous drug in a prescription that was sent to his drug¬ 
store to be compounded. One cannot be expected to give a 
reason for everything, and the murderer dismissed this case 
with the assertion that he had expected to be called as a phy¬ 
sician to attend her. 

The wretch’s account of the murder of an inventor named 
Warner has been doubted, and, for the credit of human 
nature, it is to be hoped that it was one of the inventive 
vagaries of his mind, and not a real occurrence. It will be 
briefly recounted because it shows the malignity of his heart 
and demonstrates that he was completely under the influence 
of the impulse to take human life. This man had a device for 
bending glass, and had constructed a furnace in the “Castle” 
for the purpose of demonstrating its practicability. It was so 
arranged that by a combination of steam and burning gas the 
temperature could be raised to a white heat in a minute or 
two. “It was into this kiln,” wrote Holmes, “that I induced 
Warner to go with me, under pretense of making certain 
minute explanations of the process; and then stepping out¬ 
side, as he believed, to get some tools, I closed the door and 
turned on both oil and steam to their full extent. In a short 
time not even the bones of my victim remained. The coat 
found outside the kiln was the one he took off before going 
therein.” After the death of Mr. Warner the murderer drew 
a large sum of money from the Park National Bank of 
Chicago, which the dead man had on deposit. He did this by 
“raising” the amount of two small checks which Warner had 
given him. 

Holmes claimed that, in 1891, he had become associated with 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 425 

a young Englishman, whose name he did not give, who had 
committed, by his own admission, every crime save murder, 
and presumably that. This man induced a wealthy Wisconsin 
man, named Rogers, to come to Chicago and visit the 
“Castle,” with a view to investing in some patents. The two 
secured him in the secret room and forced him to sign checks 
and drafts for $70,000. They did this by alternately starving 
and nauseating him with gas. They had no trouble in cashing 
the checks and drafts. Holmes did not propose to put the 
poor wretch to death, even suggesting that he be set at 
liberty. He did this to force his partner in crime to take the 
initiatory step, which he finally did, going to the extent of 
administering the chloroform that deprived him of life. 
Holmes sold his body for dissection. The wretch narrated 
another case of forming a partnership to murder. The victim 
was a wealthy woman, whose name he claimed to have for¬ 
gotten, who became infatuated with a tenant of his. After a 
time, the tenant had trouble with his wife on her account, and 
came to Holmes for advice. He had struck the right man. 
The tenant lived with her for a time in the “Castle,” after 
which they killed her with chloroform—Holmes’ favorite in¬ 
strument—and divided her property. 

The murder of the Williams sisters was one of the worst of 
the fiend’s many inhuman acts. He stated that it gave him a 
certain satisfaction to state that he had lied when he said that 
Minnie Williams had killed her sister in a fit of rage and he 
had sunk the body in Lake Michigan. Holmes said that he 
first met Minnie Williams in New York in 1888, and again, 
early in 1893, in Chicago. Upon the second introduction she 
did not remember having met him before. She entered his 
employ as a stenographer. His fascinating manner proved too 
much for her to resist, though she had previously led an 
entirely correct life. He induced her to give him $2,500 in 
money and transfer to him real estate in Fort Worth, Texas, 
worth $50,000. Afterwards he secured from her two checks 
aggregating $3,500. Learning that she had a sister, Nannie, 
in Texas, who had some property, he induced Minnie to send 
for her. Upon her arrival Holmes met her at the train and 


426 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


took her to the “Castle,” where he speedily forced her to make 
over all her property to him as the only means of saving her 
life, after which he suffocated her in his “vault of death.” By 
means of intercepting letters and forging others, he succeeded 
in keeping Minnie in ignorance of the fact that her sister had 
left home. A fire in the “Castle” interfered with his plans for 
murdering Minnie. He took her to Momence, Ill., and 
poisoned her about eight miles east of that town, burying her 
body in the basement of a house. Holmes expressed contri¬ 
tion for the murder of these two girls, and also for the murder 
of the three Pitezel children. Before his execution he denied 
that he had himself killed the latter, and attempted to show 
that it had been done by confederates. 

After killing a man, whose name Holmes said he could not 
recall—it must be remembered that the wretch carried on a 
wholesale business in murder—he went to Lead vile, Colo., 
and killed Baldwin Williams, a brother of the two murdered 
girls, securing the money due on a life-insurance policy in the 
favor of Minnie Williams, the beneficiary, whose assignment 
he had forged. This brought the murderer-author down to 
the Pitezel case. Of Pitezel he wrote: 

“It will be understood that, from the first hour of our 
acquaintance, even before I knew he had a family who would 
later afford me additional victims for the gratification of my 
bloodthirstiness, I intended to kill him, and all my subsequent 
care of him and his, as well as my apparent trust in him by 
placing in his name large amounts of property, were steps 
taken to gain his confidence and that of his family, so that 
when the time was ripe they would the more readily fall into 
my hands. It seems almost incredible now, as I look back, 
that I could have expected to have experienced sufficient satis¬ 
faction in witnessing their deaths to repay me for even the 
physical exertion that I had put forth in their behalf during 
those seven long years, to say nothing of the amount of money 
I had expended for their welfare, over and above what I could 
have expected to receive from his comparatively small life 
insurance. Yet so it is and it furnishes a very striking illus¬ 
tration of the vagaries in which the human mind will, under 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 427 


certain circumstances, indulge, in comparison with which the 
seeking of buried treasure at the rainbow’s end, the delusions 
of the exponents of perpetual motion, or the dreams of the 
hashish fiend, are sanity itself.” 

Holmes admitted that he killed Benjamin F. Pitezel on 
September 2, 1894, as had been proved by the Commonwealth. 
Pitezel was much addicted to intemperance, and the murderer 
drove his victim to drink by writing him letters of a very 
discouraging character, which he made him believe came from 
his wife. On the fatal day he found Pitezel drunk, and pro¬ 
ceeded to carry into execution his long cherished plan. The 
devil that reigned within this miserable wretch and drove him 
on to commit the most hideous crimes, never laughed more 
gleefully than on this occasion. Having tightly bound the 
legs and arms of his drunken victim, he saturated the body 
with benzine and ignited it with a match. Of this fearful act 
the arch-fiend wrote: 

“So horrible was this torture that in writing of it I have 
been tempted to attribute his death to some more humane 
means—not with a wish to spare myself, but because I fear 
that it will not be believed that one could be so heartless and 
depraved—but such a course would be useless, for by exclu¬ 
sion, the authorities have determined for me that his death 
could only have occurred in this manner; no blows or bruises 
upon his body and no drug administered save chloroform, 
which was not placed in his stomach until at least thirty min¬ 
utes after his death, and to now make a misstatement of the 
facts would only serve to draw out additional criticism from 
them. The least I can do is to spare my readers a recital of 
the victim’s cries for mercy, his prayers, and finally, his plea 
for a more speedy termination of his sufferings, all of which 
upon me had no effect. Finally, when he was dead, I 
removed the straps and ropes that had bound him, and extin¬ 
guished the flames, and a little later poured into his stomach 
one and one-half ounces of chloroform.” 

When the body of Pitezel was examined for identification, 
Holmes cut away with a knife such portions of his body as con¬ 
tained the marks that had been previously agreed upon. He 


428 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


said that this was a source of intense gratification, and gave 
him an opportunity of pandering to his inordinate lust for 
blood. 

He gave a long account of the murder of Howard Pitezel, 
which, however, threw little new light upon the matter, so 
thoroughly had it been worked out by Detective Geyer. He 
killed the boy by means of poison, after which he cut up the 
body and burned it in the large stove by the combined use of 
gas and corn-cobs. Of his motives for this act, he wrote: 

“If I could now recall one circumstance, a dollar of money 
to be gained, a disagreeable act or word upon his part in justi¬ 
fication of this horrid crime, it would be a satisfaction to me; 
but to think I committed this and other crimes for the pleasure 
of killing my fellow-beings, to hear their cries for mercy and 
pleas to be allowed even sufficient time to pray and prepare for 
death—all this is now too horrible for even me, hardened 
criminal that I am, to again live over without a shudder. Is 
it to be wondered at that since my arrest my days have been 
those of self-reproaching torture, and my nights of sleepless 
fear? Or that even before my death I have commenced to 
assume the form and features of the evil one himself?” 

Holmes gave quite a detailed account of his travels with the 
two remaining children, whom he planned to kill in Detroit, 
and how he managed to keep them from meeting their mother, 
sister and baby brother, all of whom he designed to murder, 
and would have murdered, but for his opportune arrest in 
Boston. Having rented the house No. 16 St. Vincent street, 
Toronto, he took the two girls there late on the afternoon of 
October 25, 1894, and compelled them to get into a large 
trunk, through the top of which he had made a small opening. 
He then borrowed a spade, to arrange a place in the cellar, 
where his sister could store potatoes. Then he called on Mrs. 
Pitezel at her hotel, ate dinner at his own hotel, and returned 
and saw Mrs. Pitezel off on a train for Ogdensburg, N. Y. 
This necessary business dispatched, he returned and engaged 
in the pleasurable recreation of murdering the two children. 

“Later than eight p. m.,” he wrote, “I again returned to 
the house where the children were imprisoned, and ended 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 429 


their lives by connecting the gas with the trunk. Then came 
the opening of the trunk, and the viewing of their little black¬ 
ened and distorted faces, then the digging of the shallow 
graves in the basement of the house, the ruthless stripping off 
of their clothing, and the burial without a particle of cover¬ 
ing save the cold earth, which I heaped upon them with fiend¬ 
ish delight. Consider what an awful act this was. These little 
innocent and helpless children, the oldest being only thirteen 
years of age, a puny and sickly child, who to look at one 
would believe much younger; consider that for eight years 
before their death I had been almost as much a father as 
though they had been my own children, thus giving them a 
right to look to me for care and protection, and in your right¬ 
eous judgment let your bitterest curses fall upon me, but again 
I pray, upon me alone.” 

Herman Webster Mudgett, alias H. H. Holmes, was 
hanged in Moyamensing Prison, Philadelphia, on the morning 
of May 7, 1896. He spent his last day in writing letters to his 
friends and completing certain business with his lawyer. 
Some time before his execution he formally embraced the 
Roman Catholic religion, in which faith he died. He died as 
he lived, cool and impassive, seemingly as thoughtless of his 
own life as he had been of those of his many victims. There 
is much truth in the old aphorism: “The ruling passion is 
strong in death, ’ ’ and it exemplified itself in the ending of the 
multi-murderer. Next to the love of murdering, that of falsi¬ 
fication was the passion that controlled him while living, and 
he died within a minute after calmly uttering a lie so mon¬ 
strous that he must have known no human being would ever 
believe it. 

“Gentlemen,” he said, “I have very few words to say. 
In fact, I would make no remarks at this time but for my feel¬ 
ing that in not speaking I would appear to acquiesce in my 
execution. I wish to say only that the extent of my wrong¬ 
doing in taking human life is the killing of two women—they 
having died by my hand as the result of criminal operations. 
I wish also to state here, so that there can be no chance of 
misunderstanding hereafter, that I am not guilty of taking 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


430 

the lives of the Pitezel family, the three children or the 
father, Benjamin F. Pitezel, of whose death I was convicted, 
and for which I am to hang to-day. That is all I have to say. 

Measured by the established rules of criminology, the case 
of H. H. Holmes is a difficult one to analyze. His parents were 
perfectly normal and highly respected people, and the same 
is true of all the members of his immediate family. In youth 
he appears to have been of a most amiable disposition. His 
face was good, his eyes frank and honest, and possessed a habit 
of looking fairly into those of others. His manner was most 
engaging, and of a character to inspire confidence. Though 
sometimes in trouble, as a result of the numerous fraudulent 
schemes in which he engaged, no one seems to have imgained 
that he was anything worse than tricky and dishonest, until the 
awful disclosures that followed his arrest. His case cannot be 
assigned to the category of degenerates. 

But if the theory of the homicidal impulse be accepted, 
there is nothing in the life of this monster that cannot be satis¬ 
factorily explained. The inherent disposition to take life was 
naturally strong in Holmes, and this, thanks to his almost 
total lack of conscience, coupled with his cupidity and lust, 
rapidly grew upon him until it became the controlling impulse 
of his life, and drove him on to the commission of the most 
revolting crimes. This is apparent from the monster’s con¬ 
fession. That he lied in many particulars is doubtless true, 
but in explaining the motives that induced him to adopt his 
murderous course, he undoubtedly told the substantial truth. 
His nature had become so perverted that he derived positive 
pleasure in depriving his fellow-creatures of life, actually 
gloating over the sufferings of his victims. 

This monster was once an innocent babe, an interesting 
child, an attractive youth, yet by giving way to this death¬ 
dealing impulse, he descended to depths of depravity where 
human comparisons fail and reference must be made to the 
devil himself, whom Holmes declared he had come to 
resemble in appearance, as well as disposition. 

The moral of this man’s infamous life and death is not 
hard to find: The love of self was the mainspring that con- 


HOLMES, THE MULTI-MURDERER 431 


trolled all his actions. He fostered the lowest and most 
debased of human impulses, until he became utterly depraved, 
completely perverted. Had he yielded to better promptings, 
he might have lived a useful life and died an honorable death. 
No one who reads these pages should fail to profit by his ter¬ 
rible example. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


HAYWARD CASE 

“May the curse of God fall on you and yours, and allow me, 
from the minute I drop from the scaffold, to haunt you day 
and night, until your death. Then I will welcome you on the 
brink of hell with a red-hot poker. ’ ’ 

Uttered within three days of the time when he was to meet 
death at the hands of the hangman, and addressed to his 
brother, who had just finished saying, “God bless you, Harry; 
good-by, Harry,” these awful words furnish sufficient data 
from which to form a correct judgment of the real character 
of the condemned murderer, Harry T. Hayward. The crime 
for which he suffered death was at once detestable and sensa¬ 
tional, and will take its place among the remarkable murders 
of this generation. It was committed in the outskirts of the 
city of Minneapolis, Minn., on the night of Monday, Decem¬ 
ber 3, 1894. 

About eight o’clock in the evening of that day, as a young 
man named William U. Erhardt was returning from the city 
to his home, beyond the upper end of Lake Calhoun, he came 
upon the dead body of a woman lying by the roadside. It was 
a wild spot, where a road had been cut through a tamarack 
swamp. He hastened to give the alarm, and the body was 
removed to the county morgue. Before discovering the body 
the young man had seen a horse, attached to an empty buggy, 
dashing wildly along, and the death was supposed to have 
been the result of a runaway accident. The woman’s nose 
had been badly crushed, and the skull fractured in two places. 
These facts seemed to confirm the theory, but a more minute 
examination disclosed a small hole back of the right ear, 
from which a bullet was extracted. At first it was believed to 

432 


HAYWARD CASE 


433 

be a case of suicide, but events soon came to light which 
placed it within the awful category of murder. 

About nine o’clock that evening, a horse, which a livery¬ 
man named Henry Goosman had hired earlier in the evening 
to a stylish city dressmaker, named Catherine M. Ging, 
returned to its owner’s barn, with an empty buggy. On the seat 
and also in the bottom of the vehicle quite a quantity of blood 
was discovered. This was promptly reported to the police, and 
led to the speedy identification of the body at the morgue as 
that of Miss Ging. The young woman, together with a niece 
named Louise Ireland, resided in the Ozark flats, a modern 
apartment building, owned by W. W. Hayward. The city 
was thrown into the wildest excitement, and reporters and 
police hurried to the home of the dead woman. While the 
place was still thronged, Harry T. Hayward, the youngest son 
of the owner, appeared upon the scene. He had a fiat in the 
building, of which he had general charge, and had just 
returned from a theatre, where he had been accompanied by 
a young lady of his acquaintance. 

The officers found nothing in Miss Ging’s flat that threw 
any light upon the matter. Apprised of the occurrence, Hay¬ 
ward, accompanied by Emil Ferrant, went to the police head¬ 
quarters. Up to the time of their arrival the idea that a crime 
had been committed was not entertained by any one, the 
bullet-hole not having been discovered at that time. Hayward 
at once announced that Miss Ging had been murdered, and 
that the crime had been committed for money. Later, when 
told of the discovery of the bullet, he exclaimed: “She’s been 
murdered, and my $2,000 are gone!” 

The statement made by Harry Hayward was correct; the 
young woman had indeed been murdered for money, and the 
crime had been committed at his instigation. The fact that 
Hayward knew a good deal of the habits and recent move¬ 
ments of the dead woman was speedily learned, and he was 
closely questioned, but no light was thrown upon the dark 
mystery. He stated that he had loaned her considerable 
money, and had taken some policies of insurance on her life, 
by way of security. He was unable to suggest who had prob- 


434 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


ably committed the crime, and nothing further was learned 
that night. 

The news of the mysterious murder created an intense 
excitement, and the mayor of the city, W. H. Eustis, took 
personal charge of the investigation. The day following the 
commission of the crime he caused Harry Hayward to be 
brought before him and the chief of police for examination. 
It was thought that he might give important information, 
though he does not appear to have fallen under suspicion. 
From ten o’clock in the morning until two o’clock the follow¬ 
ing morning, he was subjected to a fusillade of questions, all of 
which he answered promptly, and most of them satisfactorily. 
He maintained an air of perfect confidence and apparent inno¬ 
cence. Although his recitals aroused suspicions that he knew 
more than he was disposed to tell, there was no evidence to 
warrant his arrest, and, after spending the remainder of the 
night in the office of the chief of police, he was discharged the 
following morning, though kept under police surveillance. 
From this point facts accumulated in a manner that would 
have done credit to the imagination of the most sensational 
novelist, while they were themselves of a most remarkable, 
almost improbable, character. 

On December 5th, two days after the murder, Albert H. 
Hall, assistant county attorney, received a long letter from a 
former associate of his, an old lawyer and real estate man, 
named Levi M. Stewart, familiarly known as “Elder Stewart.’’ 
The elder stated that, three days before the murder, Adry 
Hayward, a brother of Harry, whom he had known intimately 
for many years, having been the lawyer and friend of the 
Hayward family, had called upon him and told a most remark¬ 
able and shocking tale, which the writer had regarded as pure 
nonsense, until later events had given it a terrible signifi¬ 
cance. In brief, it was to the effect that his brother, Harry, 
had attempted to secure his aid in murdering a woman—a 
dressmaker—for the purpose of making money, as Harry held 
insurance policies upon her life for quite a large sum. Adry 
stated that he had positively refused to have anything to do 
with the dark scheme, and had tried to dissuade his brother 


HAYWARD CASE 


435 


from carrying it into effect. He was certain, however, that 
his protests would prove unavailing, since Harry had a con¬ 
federate, and believed that he still designed to accomplish the 
woman’s murder. 

The good elder, who knew Harry Hayward to be a most 
remarkable liar, thought that he had simply been trying to 
frighten Adry, and told the latter so. But for Harry’s reputa¬ 
tion as a liar, the awful crime might have been prevented. 

This communication raised a suspicion, amounting almost 
to a conviction, that Harry Hayward had had some connection 
with the murder, and the mayor, who had been apprised of its 
contents by Mr. Hall, hastened to send for the young man. 
In the meantime, he had been adding to the existing circum¬ 
stances against him by making inquiries as to the steps to be 
taken for the prompt collection of the $10,000 insurance he 
held upon the life of the murdered girl. He was taken to the 
West Hotel, where he was interrogated at great length. As 
a part of his examination, he was taken to the morgue, and 
there suddenly and unexpectedly confronted with the remains 
of the dressmaker. If this was expected to break him down 
it was a dismal failure; he did not even flinch. 

‘ ‘ Poor girl—poor dead girl, ’ ’ he said, with every indication 
of genuine emotion, ‘ ‘if you could only speak now you could 
tell who it was.” 

At 5130 that afternoon a warrant was formally read to 
Hayward, and he was under arrest on the awful charge of 
murdering Catherine Ging. Shortly before midnight, that 
same day, Adry Hayward was taken into custody, charged 
with having fired the fatal shot. There was no particular evi¬ 
dence against Adry, but the police thought that he might have 
become an actor in the programme he had outlined to Elder 
Stewart. The two brothers were locked up in the county jail, 
where Adry refused to answer questions put to him by the 
police. At last, on Friday, he was confronted with Mr. 
Stewart. The latter strongly advised Adry to make a clean 
breast of the matter. The conference ended in his repeating 
to the police the same story he had told Elder Stewart; then 
so ridiculous, now so weighty and so fearfully incriminating 


43 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


his own brother. In addition to the original tale, he disclosed 
the name of Harry’s confederate, Claus. A. Blixt, the engineer 
of the Ozark flats. Blixt was arrested that day, together with 
a man named Ole Erickson, who had been much with him just 
before the murder. The engineer’s wife was also taken into 
custody. They were not consigned to the jail, but placed in a 
lock-up a mile distant. A little later the public excitement 
became so great that the two brothers were removed to St. 
Paul, ten miles away, and confined in the Ramsey county jail. 

Mrs. Blixt, who was entirely innocent, hastened to tell all 
she knew that could have a bearing on the crime, which was 
that, for some time before the murder, Harry Hayward had 
been much with her husband in the engine-room of the build¬ 
ing. She was released from confinement, but was shadowed 
for some time. 

Left to his own reflections, and free from the seemingly 
overpowering influence that Harry Hayward had exerted over 
him, Blixt was seized with an agony of dread, which increased 
as the hours passed. At length, on Sunday, December 9th, he 
broke down completely, and said that he desired to make a full 
confession of his part in the tragedy. A stenographer was 
sent for, and the statement of the engineer taken down in full. 

He said that for months Harry Hayward had been trying 
to induce him to murder Miss Ging. To prepare him for the 
deed, Harry had told him of many murders that he had com¬ 
mitted. Finally he induced the engineer to burn a barn, 
simply to tighten his hold upon his tool. Many schemes for 
murdering the dressmaker were discussed. The means 
employed by the murderous wretch will be better understood 
from his confession, a portion of which will be found towards 
the end of the present account. At length, Blixt said, Decem¬ 
ber 3, 1894, was settled upon as the time. Harry was to drive 
her out to Lake Calhoun, and kill her, after which Blixt was 
to join him and dispose of the remains. He said that the pro- 
grammme was carried out. He was on the ground in advance 
of the couple’s coming. He heard a shot fired, and a moment 
later Harry drove up, supporting the body of the murdered 
woman! “Be sure she’s dead,’’ he cried, as he jumped out of 


HAYWARD CASE 


437 


the buggy, “before you leave her.” Blixt concluded with an 
account of how he threw the body out of the vehicle, turned 
the horse loose, and made his way back to his home in the 
flats. 

This statement removed all doubts from the minds of the 
police, and they regarded the evidence as complete. But they 
soon realized that Harry Hayward was not the only liar in 
Minneapolis, since he was undoubtedly at the Grand Opera 
House at the time the murder was committed and could prove 
a complete alibi. Blixt was at once subjected to a rigid cross- 
examination, under which he broke down and admitted that he 
had shot the girl himself, though maintaining that, in other 
respects, his first confession was correct. In his first story he 
had followed one of the many plans suggested by Harry. 

Seldom in this country has judicial action more swiftly fol¬ 
lowed the commission of a great crime. On Monday, Decem¬ 
ber ioth, the grand jury began an investigation of the case, 
Adry Hayward being used as a witness. The following day 
two indictments were found against Harry T. Hayward and 
Claus. A. Blixt, charging them with the murder of Catherine 
Ging. On December 17th, Blixt was arraigned and entered a 
plea of guilty. The court appointed two attorneys to repre¬ 
sent him, but his family secured the services of R. R. Odell to 
defend him. Under the advice of his attorney, who assured 
him that he would escape the gallows, Blixt appeared in court 
and altered his plea to not guilty. Sheriff Ege brought Hay¬ 
ward from St. Paul in an interurban car. He was not ironed, 
and his identity not discovered. December 22d he entered a 
plea of not guilty, and the trial was set for January 21, 1895. 
Hayward’s father had secured for him very able counsel: W. 
W. Erwin, of St. Paul, and John Day Smith, of Minneapolis. 

The famous trial began at the appointed time, and 
attracted wide attention. The position of Adry Hayward was 
somewhat equivocal, and many believed that he had a guilty 
connection with the crime; indeed, Harry attempted to throw 
the whole responsibility upon him. Ten days were consumed 
in securing a jury, a special venire of two hundred being 
exhausted before twelve men, acceptable to both sides, were 


43^ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


found. One of these was subsequently discharged, it being 
ascertained that he had expressed himself as opposed to cap¬ 
ital punishment. The trial was before Judge Smith. 

Over one hundred witnesses were examined, the most 
important of them being Blixt, the actual murderer. He told 
substantially the same story as in his second confession, and 
made a decided impression upon the jury. Adry Hayward 
was also an important and sensational witness. He said that 
during the past summer Harry had told him that he was mak¬ 
ing certain investments for a dressmaker. In September he 
asked Adry if he wanted to make $2,000 by killing a woman, 
but Adry declined to have anything to do with it, and tried to 
dissuade his brother from the awful deed. On Thanksgiving 
day, he again tried to induce him to give it up. He said that 
Harry had told him that Blixt would do the deed. On 
December 3d he told Adry that he had better go to the 
theatre that night, as something was going to happen. After 
their arrest, while in jail together, Harry said to him: “Oh, 
well, Blixt will stick out; I am more afraid of what you might 
say than anybody else. ’ ’ There was a mass of other testi¬ 
mony of a decidedly convincing character. One witness swore 
that he saw Harry Hayward in a buggy with Miss Ging about 
half-past seven o’clock on the evening of the murder, while 
another had seen him, a little later, running away from the 
neighborhood of the place where he was said to have turned 
the buggy over to Blixt. 

Harry’s father and mother both testified in his behalf, 
though their statements were of little importance. One of the 
most sensational features of the long trial was the appearance 
of the prisoner in the witness chair. For two days he was 
questioned and cross-questioned, without disconcerting him to 
the smallest extent; indeed, the sang-froid he preserved was 
something remarkable and called out expressions of general 
wonderment. He entered most emphatic denials to the state¬ 
ments of Blixt and his brother Adry. 

The case was given to the jury on the morning of Friday, 
March 8th, having consumed nearly seven weeks. After four 
hours’ deliberation a verdict of guilty was returned. On March 


HAYWARD CASE 


439 


nth, Harry T. Hayward was formally sentenced to be hung, 
on a day to be appointed by the governor of the State, not less 
than three months from that day. He received the death sen¬ 
tence with a sneer; indeed, he appears to have been quite 
confident that he would escape the gallows. For years the 
condemned man had been a gambler—indeed, according to his 
own confession, it was this vice that had led him to commit 
murder. As a gambler he was much given to the calculation 
of chances and entertained a high opinion of his ultimate good 
luck. The execution of the sentence was deferred to permit 
the hearing of an appeal to the Supreme Court of the State. 
This, however, availed the condemned man nothing, the court 
below being sustained on all the material points. 

Harry Hayward’s father was quite a wealthy man, and the 
young man was well supplied with money while in jail. 
Thanks to this, he appears to have been quite confident of 
effecting an escape. He expected to gain his freedom on 
October 9th, through the aid of associates. He gave Michael 
Kierce, the court-house jailer, halves of eleven bank-notes of 
one hundred dollars each. The other portions of them were 
to be given to him when Hayward secured his liberty. Kierce 
carried these half-notes to the sheriff and explained the whole 
matter. The prisoner was searched, and quite a large sum of 
money, halves of the eleven notes, keys, etc., were found con¬ 
cealed upon his person. The supreme disgust of the murderer 
to so narrowly miss escaping can be better imagined than 
described. He was removed to another cell, where he spent 
the remainder of his life in solitary confinement. 

Blixt appears to have fully realized the enormity of his 
crime, and to have most bitterly repented it. While in jail he 
devoted much of his time to reading the Bible, and gave many 
evidences of contrition. He was sentenced to imprisonment 
for life, and seemed resigned to his fate. 

On December 8, 1895, three days before the time fixed by 
the governor for his execution, Harry Hayward wrote a note 
to his brother Adry, towards whom he had manifested the 
most intense hatred since the time of his arrest, asking him to 
call and see him at the jail, as he wished to beg his forgive- 


440 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


ness. The terrible words quoted at the beginning of this 
narrative concluded the interview that ensued. The meeting 
of the two brothers was without witnesses, the guards having 
withdrawn some distance from the cell door at the request of 
the prisoner. Their meeting was friendly, and they conversed 
for some time in low tones. At length the voices of both were 
raised. Harry had made some demand upon his brother, to 
which the latter replied in appealing tones: “But, Harry, how 
can I?” 

This answer aroused all the venom in the wicked heart of 
the depraved murderer. Springing to the iron grating that 
separated him from his brother, his rather handsome face 
alternately ashen and livid from the intense hatred that con¬ 
trolled him, he poured forth this bitter, almost demoniacal, 
tirade: 

“You low-down, mean, contemptible, miserable, damnable 
wretch. You refuse to do that after what I have done for 
you. You God-forsaken tool. You have played a good part, 
but now I can tell you what I think of you. My letter to you 
was after all only a decoy for that purpose. You d—d villain. 
If I could only get at you, I would dig out your brains with a 
knife. I would tear out your heart with my hands. I would 
crush the two together, cut them into pieces, squeeze out the 
juice, make it into a pie, and thrust it down your throat!’’ 

Before Harry’s execution the two met again, and the mur¬ 
derer begged his brother’s forgiveness, his intense hatred 
seeming to have passed away. Harry T. Hayward met his 
death about two o’clock on the morning of December n, 1895. 
His marvelous nerve did not desert him in his last dreadful 
extremity. He made a long, rambling speech, in which he 
said good-bye to many of his friends, addressing them by 
name. He indulged in many ghastly pleasantries, and was, 
beyond all comparison, the best-collected man present. Near 
the end he repeated a brief prayer, asking God to pardon his 
sins. He explained that he did this at the request of John 
Day Smith, one of his counsel. To apologize for asking the 
forgiveness of the Maker one is about to meet is a performance 
almost without parallel. His last words—“I stand pat’’— 


HAYWARD CASE 


441 


indicate his stoical character, and the frame of mind in which 
he left the world, where he had cut such an unworthy figure. 

The night before his execution Hayward made a long and 
detailed confession of his many crimes. In part this consisted 
of his own voluntary statements, and in part of answers to 
numerous questions. This was made to his cousin, Edward 
H. Goodsell, and J. T. Mannix, of the Minneapolis Times. 
It was taken down verbatim by Richard A. Mabey, a local 
stenographer. Love of money was the ruling passion of 
Harry Hayward’s heart, and it maintained its supremacy to 
the end. He seems to have had some affection for his father 
—though he admitted that at one time he had meditated his 
murder. Mr. Hayward had spent a large sum of money in 
his son’s defense, and the latter suggested that his confession, 
made immediately before his death, would bring quite a sum 
to apply on the debt he felt he owed his parent. This appears 
to have been the prime motive for making his dying statement. 

Lack of space prevents more than a general notice of this 
remarkable document, but enough will be presented to show 
his motives for taking the life of Catherine Ging, the methods 
he employed to cause another to do the dark deed, and to 
clearly demonstrate that Harry T. Hayward was possessed of 
the homicidal impulse, and that in a most pronounced and 
indisputable form. 

Harry T. Hayward was born in McCoupin county, Illinois, 
and was thirty-one years old at the time of his death. When 
he was a year old his parents removed to Minneapolis, where 
he was raised and educated, and where he spent the greater 
portion of his life. He was acquisitive from his childhood. 
“Money,” he declared, by way of introduction to his last 
statement, “has always been my god.” 

Gambling was the special sin that sent Harry Hayward to 
the scaffold. He says that in his youth he was never addicted 
to stealing, but began gambling when about twenty years of 
age, frequenting public gaming houses for that purpose. At 
first he went only at long intervals, and never played to win 
over two dollars. The habit soon became fixed upon him, 
however, and drove him into evil courses which led him to 


442 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


commit murder. While still young, he became a good deal of 
a rover, visiting various sections of the country, particularly 
the South and West 

His first serious crime was committed near San Antonio, 
Texas, in December, 1884. There he had a liaison with a 
Spanish girl, and, being assaulted by her brother, shot and 
seriously wounded him. The girl had money which he 
determined to possess, but he was obliged to leave without 
securing it, on account of the affray. 

Probably the first murder of Hayward was committed at 
Pasadena, Cal. His first victim, like his last, was a woman, a 
friendless girl about twenty years of age, whom he had known 
but a few days, having met her at a public dance. This girl, 
whose name the murderer did not give, had some seven hun¬ 
dred dollars that she had inherited from her father. Hayward 
learned that she had this money in the bank, and induced her 
to draw it out and give it to him, for investment, the arrange¬ 
ment being that he was to marry her. When he decided to 
kill her, he already had the money in his possession, but as she 
knew his real name and residence, he was fearful that she 
might make him trouble. His plan formed, he secured a con¬ 
veyance and drove out with the girl to the Sierra Madre Valley, 
some six miles from Pasadena. He murdered her there by 
shooting her in the back of the head, so that he might not see 
her face after she was dead. He said that his theory had 
always been that murderers were often haunted by visions of 
the distorted faces of their victims, and so driven to con¬ 
fession. 

The deed done, he dug a shallow grave with a piece of 
board, and hid her body from his sight. She seems to have 
haunted, or at least troubled him, however, for, a few days 
later, according to his solemn confession, he hired a man in 
Los Angeles to go out with him, disinter the remains, and put 
them in a box, which he took along for that purpose. This 
box was to be brought back to Los Angeles, weighted and 
sunk in the bay. Whether this was actually done he was not 
certain, though he paid the man one hundred dollars for the 
service. 


HAYWARD CASE 


443 


Upon his return home from California he became an incen¬ 
diary, firing several buildings, among others a house that 
stood upon the ground where the Ozark flats were afterward 
built. He did this because he wanted his father to put up a 
fine new building, and knew that the removal of the old one, 
which was fully insured, would facilitate matters. 

He admitted that he had planned murders that he never 
carried into execution; among them that of a young lady in 
Minneapolis, who was possessed of two thousand dollars, and 
his cousin, Edward H. Goodsell, who had a like amount. He 
spoke of these matters as if they were ordinary business 
transactions. He had attempted to get his father to make a 
will largely in his favor, his intention being to murder him. 
On this point he said, repeating what he had recently told his 
father: “I had kind of sized things up in my mind, and had 
figured on you like that.” And he added: “But I told him 
no, I wouldn’t do it, on account of liking to see him around, 
you know; and I wanted him around, and my mother the same 
way. ’ ’ 

In the course of his statement he described a bull-fight, as 
he had seen it in Havana. The recollection of the horrid 
scene, where bulls and horses were killed and several men 
badly injured, seemed to give him intense satisfaction. This, 
in the author’s opinion, is a modification of the genuine homi¬ 
cidal impulse. Harry Hayward undoubtedly delighted in 
suffering and murder. 

By 1892 gambling had become the ruling passion of his life, 
and it was this, coupled no doubt with an inherent desire to 
kill, that made him a murderer. At times he needed money 
to make good the losses he had sustained, and also that he 
might indulge in his favorite pastime. In the fall of that year 
he was in New York, gambling. He won some money and 
decided to go to Monte Carlo, but finally gave it up. At this 
time he committed another murder. This was at Long 
Branch, his victim being a man in poor health, who talked a 
good deal of committing suicide. As he was possessed of 
some two thousand dollars, Harry decided to become philan¬ 
thropic and save him the trouble of taking his own life. He 


444 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


shot this man in the woods near Long Branch, and disposed 
of his body so that the tide would carry it out to sea. He 
meditated killing two others at this time, but did not carry his 
plans into execution. 

In 1893 he was again in New York, at which time he mur¬ 
dered a Chinaman in a most brutal manner. He entered a 
gambling-house, in the Chinese section of the city, and began 
. to play. Finally, he quarreled with one of the Chinamen and 
knocked him down. His own description of this affair clearly 
shows the satisfaction he felt in recalling it. “I knocked him 
down with my fist or hand,” he said. “I kicked him in the 
belly, and I took the round of a chair—it wasn’t as large as 
that one there, it was a small round; it was a little smaller 
than this—I mean the leg of this chair. And he was down and 
he was howling, and I took it in my hand and jabbed the 
comer in his eye, and his skull was kind of thin and I kind of 
sided it up to the top of his head and smashed it down in 
there, and I got on the chair and sat on it, and you know it 
went through, went down into him.” 

When it is understood that he interrupted himself with 
laughing, during this and other horrid recitals, there can 
remain no doubt but what he really delighted in taking human 
life. The death of the Chinaman caused a regular stampede 
on the part of the inmates of the den, during which he made 
his escape. Harry Hayward was a great liar, and it is possible 
that some of his statements, though made almost at the foot of 
the scaffold, were either false or at least exaggerated. But, 
whether true or false, they seem to clearly establish the fact 
that he was a victim of the homicidal impulse. 

But it was that portion of his statement concerning the 
Ging murder that excited the greatest interest, and it is this 
that most clearly shows the real character of the despicable 
wretch, whose god was money, and who placed a most trifling 
value upon human life. Hayward appears to have had a de¬ 
cided penchant for robbing and murdering young women. 
He said that his plan for winning their confidence was to treat 
them with great respect, making no attempt at undue fa¬ 
miliarity. He declared, and probably told the truth, that he 


HAYWARD CASE 


445 


never sustained any relations, other than those of a strictly 
business character, with Catherine Ging. 

According to his story, he formed the acquaintance of the 
dressmaker, who occupied apartments in his father’s building, 
and who was possessed of considerable means, in January, 
1894. Like many other women, Miss Ging was strongly 
inclined to speculation, and young Hayward was just the man 
to make investments for her. In this manner he secured 
from her several thousand dollars, which he spent in carousing 
and gambling. He seems to have acquired a decided control 
over her from the first, else she would not have been satisfied 
with the explanations he offered as to the failure of his 
schemes and the loss of her money. By August, 1894, he had 
secured all her ready money, and, being in pressing need of 
funds, burned a mill a little distance from the city, upon which 
she held a mortgage for twelve hundred dollars. This was 
secured by an insurance policy. He tried to induce his 
brother Adry to join him in this criminal enterprise, but failed 
to do so. The policy was paid, and Harry secured the major 
portion of the money, though he denounced her bitterly in his 
confession for not giving him all of it. When asked how he 
managed to secure all this money, he made the following 
reply: 

“Now, here is where you have got to believe in hypnotism 
a little bit. I would explain to her that I had stuff out in New 
York, some diamonds; and I would explain that in such a 
complicated way that I couldn’t understand it myself. You 
think of a thing that is so simple and you can see through it, 
but you take a complicated thing, and it captivates people 
more, they think there must be something to it. Well, I 
explained it around a little, and she is one of this kind to say, 
yes, she understood it; at the same time I couldn’t understand 
it myself.” 

It was at this time that he formulated a scheme for murder¬ 
ing her. He used these mysterious diamonds as a means of 
entrapping her into taking out life insurance policies in his 
favor for ten thousand dollars. Hayward was to beat the 
owner out of .the gems, and he and Miss Ging were to be 


446 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


partners in the enterprise. He was to secure the diamonds 
and sell them to her for seven thousand dollars. The whole 
transaction was a scheme to prevent the real owner from 
recovering them from Hayward. No money was to be paid, 
but it was to be given out that Hayward had loaned her the 
money to make the purchase. To make everything look regu¬ 
lar on its face, she was to assign the policies on her life to him 
as security for the imaginary loan. It seems almost incredible 
that a shrewd woman could have been so easily deceived, 
unless we adopt the murderer’s theory and admit that he 
hypnotized her. Perhaps her eyes were dazzled by the expec¬ 
tation of possessing diamonds worth a large sum of money. 
The insurance policies secured, nothing remained to be done 
but the—to him—trifling matter of murdering the dressmaker. 

Hayward declared that Miss Ging was at times very sus¬ 
picious, and acted in a most unreasonable manner. She 
refused to sign the notes for the imaginary loan, without some 
consideration being shown, and he finally gave her seven 
thousand dollars to count, five thousand of which was counter¬ 
feit. The counting completed, he pretended to seal the 
money up in envelopes for her, adroitly substituting pieces of 
paper. 

Hayward admitted that he had had some talk with his 
brother Adry about the murder, but declared that the latter 
was entirely innocent of any complicity in the commission of 
the crime. Having decided to use Blixt as his tool, he set 
about gaining control over him. His account of the process 
he employed cannot but prove interesting. To the average 
mind it appears a little unreasonable, but not more so than 
any other theory that has been advanced to account for the 
strange relations between the two men. 

“This is what will make the strange part of the book,” 
said Harry, when asked about Blixt. “Is there such a thing 
as hypnotism? I have hypnotized Blixt and also Kate Ging. 
I started with Blixt by taking a pile of money out of my 
pocket. I didn’t mean to get him into an epileptic state, but 
talked money, and drew his attention, and when you can 
branch him from one thing to another, from a newspaper to a 


HAYWARD CASH 


447 


hammer, for instance, move him every time, you have got 
him, and you can go on and talk later on about killing people. 
Say, ‘Why, it is nothing; just like killing mice.’ Well, it 
makes an impression on him, and he believes it, and I labored 
systematically with Blixt in that way, with money, dwelling 
upon the importance of having the stuff and getting it easy. I 
would say: ‘Well, there was nothing in killing people; kill a 
rat just as well. What is the difference—they are dead?’ and 
Blixt would say, ‘Certainly, it don’t make any difference.’ I 
was trying Blixt. I was trying to haunt him. I said, ‘Sup¬ 
posing she comes back dead and gets in the elevator and shook 
her hand?’ Blixt says, ‘I will ride over fifty of them—an 
elevator full of them.’ He felt that way, too, at the time 
being. Most of this talk was in the basement. I didn’t pay 
any attention to him until a month before in this line. I saw 
that he was a good subject, because you can help it along by 
flattery. He was very susceptible to flattery, and I knew that 
money would bring him. He seemed to like to talk on the sub¬ 
ject, and was glad to have me come down to the basement.” 

Hayward claimed that he had the engineer so completely 
under his control that he would have killed any one he ordered 
him to. Not long before Hayward’s execution, and after 
Blixt had been sent to the penitentiary at Stillwater, the latter 
made a statement to the effect that, on the night of the mur¬ 
der, Hayward gave him whisky which contained nitro¬ 
glycerine, and that the effect of this poison deprived him of all 
free-will, and compelled him to do the bidding of Hayward. 
Quite an elaborate theory was constructed on this statement. 
The dose administered was sufficient to compel him to obey 
instructions for an hour or so, and then deprive him of life. 
Blixt claimed that Hayward had told him to bring away the 
woman’s sealskin sacque and be careful not to lose his revol¬ 
ver. According to these rather sensational theorists, Blixt 
was to commit the crime and then die suddenly, with the 
revolver and sacque as his mute but unanswerable accusers. 
Harry laughed when questioned about this, and declared that 
there was nothing in it, that he gave the engineer whisky, but 
that it contained no nitroglycerine, or other drug. 


448 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


He talked the matter over many times with Blixt, propos¬ 
ing various plots. He said he did this because two heads 
were better than one and he wanted to get suggestions from 
his accomplice as to the practicability of the different plans. 
For the same reason he talked about the matter with his 
brother Adry. He declared that on the night of Saturday, 
December i, 1894, two days before the murder, he had driven 
out with Miss Ging, his intention being to kill her himself. 
He took with him a piece of T-rail that had been bought for 
use in the furnace of the Ozark flats, with which to do the 
deed. His heart did not fail him—he was anxious to kill her 
—but no favorable opportunity presented itself. When asked 
whether he really felt an impulse to murder that night, he 
replied: 

“Oh, yes. There is where I tell you I can understand about 
the San Francisco murderer, Durant. I could have taken her 
by the throat, you know, and choked her, with some sort of 
satisfaction in it many a time and just laugh at it.” 

Hayward had told Miss Ging that more than half the 
money in circulation was counterfeit, and that even the banks 
couldn’t tell the difference. The ride on the Saturday night 
and the one on Monday evening following were taken under 
the pretext that they could secure a large quantity of “green 
goods” from a band of counterfeiters, who were domiciled near 
Lake Calhoun. The whole thing was a mystery to the young 
woman, and Hayward claimed that his success was due to 
this very circumstance. On the fatal night, when he left the 
buggy and turned her over to the care of the actual murderer, 
he whispered to her that they would surely make the stake— 
meaning that they would secure the counterfeit money. Just 
before Blixt came up he said to her: 

“I have never told you, but here is Blixt, the engineer. 
We have to keep him in disguise, but the man is rich. Blixt 
is rich, and is just working there for a disguise. Anything 
he says is all right, but I can’t stop long to ask any question. 
He will take you out, and I will meet you out there.” 

In answer to questions as to his motives in taking the girl’s 
life he declared that it was the desire to secure the insurance 


HAYWARD CASE 


449 


money, coupled with hatred. He said that he often felt 
impelled to choke her. When it is remembered that he had 
secured all the money that she possessed, and that she was com¬ 
pletely under his control, the nature of the hatred he felt for her 
is somewhat difficult to understand. It seems highly probable 
that his hatred was more imaginary than real; a justification 
to himself of the crime he was about to commit in obedience 
to the controlling motives of cupidity and the desire to kill. 

After Hayward’s execution a mole was found under his left 
ear, in popular superstition an indication that he was to be 
hanged. In this connection, a remark made by him towards 
the close of his confession becomes decidedly interesting: 
“Well, this murder was on my mind, sitting by the side of her, 
perhaps holding her hands; not much spooning, because I 
didn’t have much heart for that, you know; as little as could 
be. When she sat down with me, time and again, four or five 
different times, somebody had told her something, and she 
would put her finger on me this way—it comes back to me 
now—and say, ‘Harry, here is where the hangman’s knot goes,’ 
putting her finger under the left ear. Thinks I, if she only 
knew what was in my mind, it would be more real. ’ ’ 

In answer to a question as to whether he had not become a 
murderer by reason of his passion for money and gambling, he 
replied, concluding his long and remarkable confession, as 
follows: 

“Well, I suppose that is it, but don’t put me on record as 
sorry. The idea is I have made my bed, and I am willing to 
lie in it without a kick, and to quote these lines, which have 
been of much satisfaction to me, from Dryden: 

“ ‘Happy the man, and happy he alone, 

He who can call to-day his own; 

He who sincere within can say, 

To-morrow do thy worst, for I have lived to-day. * 

You see that fits the scaffold here. 

“ ‘Come fair, or foul, or rain, or shine, 

The joys I have possessed, in spite of fate, are mine, 

Not heaven itself over the past hath power, 

But what has been, has been, and I have had my hour.’ ” 


450 MURDER IN ALL AGES 

A post-mortem examination of the brain of Harry T. 
Hayward is said to have clearly shown that he was a degenerate 
with born predilections to crime. That he was insane in the 
ordinary acceptation of the term seems altogether out of the 
question, though it is equally clear that he had completely 
resigned himself to his evil passions and the impulse to take 
human life. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THEODORE DURANT, THE SAN FRANCISCO 
MONSTER 

Fact is often stronger than fiction; beyond that, it is fre¬ 
quently more brutal. The horrors of “The Murders in the 
Rue Morgue,” “Oliver Twist,” “Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde,” 
even, find their counterpart, are surpassed really, by those of 
the Durant murders, perpetrated in San Francisco early in 
1895. The wildest invention of a Stephenson, a Dickens or a 
Poe, never developed the awful climaxes of this Tragedy in 
Real Life. The nearest resemblance is found in the “Hunch¬ 
back of Notre Dame,” who leaped nimbly among the huge 
rafters of the old cathedral and fiercely clanged the bells; for 
Durant committed his murders within the sacred precincts of 
a house dedicated to the worship of God. Ugly and deformed, 
Quasamoda possessed a kindly heart, while Theodore Durant— 
tall, handsome, athletic—was a devil incarnate, as much under 
the control of the foul fiend as was the hunchback’s master 
and benefactor, the abbe, when he gave over the beautiful 
young gypsy to be hanged as a sorceress. 

The case of Durant is, in some respects, unique in the his¬ 
tory of crime. The awful character of the deeds, the motives 
that led to them, the place where they were committed, the 
disposition of the remains, the remarkable methods adopted in 
secreting the clothing of one of the victims, the youth and 
beauty of the murdered girls, the wonderful self-possession of 
the brutal murderer, his previous good character and religious 
professions, his remarkable perversion, the circumstantial evi¬ 
dence that fastened the crimes upon him, the fury of the 
populace—all these, and other matters, characterized this case 
as one of the most peculiar of all that have ever occurred in 
America. 


451 


452 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Theodore Durant was a native of California, having been 
born in San Francisco, near the scenes of his crimes, in 1871. 
Although a most depraved wretch, he came from excellent 
people, his family having long been a very respectable one. 
He was not married, but lived with his parents. In appear¬ 
ance, Theodore was tall and well developed, though of a some¬ 
what slender build. He was quite generally accounted 
handsome, but his face was almost unnaturally pale, and his 
cheek-bones high and prominent. His eyes were his worst 
feature; they were light blue, and possessed a certain fish-like 
glassiness. Durant was much stronger than his appearance 
indicated, being decidedly athletic. He was a member of the 
Second Brigade Signal Corps, and at the time the crimes were 
committed was a student of the Cooper Medical College, in San 
Francisco, where he had been about a year. Durant was quite 
a society man, mingling with a good class, most of them being 
church-people. He was a member of Emanuel Baptist 
Church, on Bartlett street. He took a very active part in 
church matters, being a good deal about the church. He was 
assistant superintendent of the Sunday-school, church libra¬ 
rian, and secretary of the Young People’s Society. He was 
foremost in church sociables and other entertainments. 
Taken altogether, Theodore was a popular young man, his life 
had always been regular, so far as known, he was well 
regarded by the church-people, and was fairly bright and 
active in his professional studies. 

The victims of Durant’s lust and homicidal impulse were 
two young and beautiful girls, Blanche Lamont, and Minnie 
Williams. The former was a striking brunette, while the 
latter was a very attractive blonde. Both girls were large 
and well developed for their years. They were devoted 
friends, and, being much together, each shone by contrast 
with the other. They both attended the Emanuel Baptist 
Church, mingled in the young society of the congregation, and 
were well acquainted with Durant. 

Blanche Lamont was about eighteen years of age. She 
was born at Rockford, Ill., being the daughter of David 
Lamont. While yet a young girl she removed to Dillon, 


THEODORE DURANT 


453 


Mont., with her father, where the latter died in 1891. Early 
in 1894, being in delicate health, she went to San Francisco to 
an aunt named Mrs. Charles Noble, with whom she was living 
at the time of her death. She was a student of a city normal 
school. Minnie Williams was only about seventeen years old. 
She had formerly lived in the neighborhood of the Emanuel 
Baptist Church. Upon the separation of her parents, not long 
before the tragedy, she went across the bay and made her 
home with friends named Morgan, in Alameda, her idea being 
to find employment. The Morgan family were preparing to 
leave for Tacoma, and on April 12, 1895, Minnie removed her 
belongings to the house of a Mrs. Voy, near the church. 
Blanche Lamont was a decidedly handsome girl, and attracted 
attention wherever she appeared. These beautiful and intel¬ 
ligent girls, universally respected and beloved, just entering 
upon the full bloom of womanhood, with bright and happy 
prospects, were destined tor die at the hands of a cruel, per¬ 
verted wretch. 

The third leading factor in the awful tragedies was the Bap¬ 
tist Emanuel Church. It was a large, red, wooden structure, 
and was widely known to San Francisco people. Churches 
stand for morality and salvation, their taper spires pointing 
silently, but most eloquently, the way to heaven. None of us 
are pleased with the sight of a signboard that indicates a path 
we are most loath to follow. Millions in this country entertain 
no kindly feelings towards churches for much the same 
reasons. Hence it is that the wrong-doings of church people 
are much more talked about, and that with greater relish, than 
their noble acts of charity, self-sacrifice, and genuine piety. 
The sacred edifice in question was popularly known to those 
who tabooed all forms of worship, as the “Hoodoo Church.’’ 
This appellation was not altogether unmerited. It had been 
struck by lightning, its trustees had once defaulted, and one 
of its former pastors had committed suicide, after killing the 
proprietor of a newspaper. The phrase, “Burn it down,’’ had 
been uttered by thousands of people, so much was it disliked. 
The section of the city where it stands was originally in the 
Mission Dolores, founded by friars a full hundred years ago, 


454 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


and is yet spoken of as “The Mission.” A still darker 
notoriety awaited the old wooden structure, destined to prac¬ 
tically destroy its usefulness. 

April 3, 1895, Blanche Lamont disappeared from view. 
Her aunt at once reported the matter to the police, and dili¬ 
gent search was made for her, without the slightest results 
being obtained. Mrs. Noble was unable to throw any light 
upon the matter; so far as she knew, Blanche had no lover, 
and she was positive that the girl had not eloped. The 
inquiry led to some revelations that afterward proved of 
decided value. It was learned that the missing girl had 
been quite intimately acquainted with Theodore Durant, also 
that she was a devoted and inseparable friend of Minnie Wil¬ 
liams, who, however, was, or professed to be, altogether in the 
dark as to her friend’s whereabouts. Whether she suspected 
the young medical student of knowing anything about the 
matter is uncertain, though many believe that she had serious 
suspicions, and that they led to her own death. For a few 
days the newspapers contained items about the matter, but 
these decreased in size, and soon ceased altogether. In the 
meantime, Durant not only denied all knowledge of the where¬ 
abouts of the missing girl, but was constantly making sug¬ 
gestions, always claiming that she would soon turn up. To 
some he hinted that Blanche had gone astray, and would 
appear in some disreputable connection. 

But an awful revelation was at hand. On Saturday, April 
13th, the day before Easter Sunday, some ladies repaired to 
the Emanuel Baptist Church to decorate it for the great Chris¬ 
tian festival. After a time they passed from the auditorium 
into the library, where they sat down. Opening out of it was 
a small room, little more than a closet, where some books were 
kept, and which the pastor sometimes used as a study. One 
of the ladies opened the door of this miniature apartment, only 
to stagger back with horror and affright depicted upon her 
face. The force of the awful shock having somewhat abated, 
the terrified ladies approached and inspected the closet. Upon 
the floor, horribly mutilated and covered with blood, lay the 
body of a girl whom they at once recognized as Minnie Williams. 


THEODORE DURANT 


455 


The police were promptly notified, and an immense 
throng soon congregated about the church. Evidences of a 
great struggle were apparent; the poor girl had not parted with 
life and honor without making an almost superhuman effort to 
retain them. Her clothing was torn and disheveled. She had 
been gagged, and that in a manner indicative of a fiend rather 
than a man. A portion of her underclothing had been thrust 
down her throat with a stick, her tongue being terribly 
lacerated by the , operation. A cut across her wrist had 
severed both arteries and tendons. This wound had evidently 
been inflicted with a sharp instrument. She had been stabbed 
in each breast, and directly over her heart was a deep cut in 
which a portion of a broken knife remained. This was an 
ordinary silver table-knife, one of those used in the church at 
entertainments where refreshments were served. It was 
round at the end, and so dull that great force must have been 
used to inflict the fearful wounds; indeed, it appeared that the 
cold-blooded wretch had deliberately unfastened his victim’s 
dress that the knife might penetrate her flesh. The little 
room was covered with blood, but not a stain was discovered 
in the library, showing that the knife had been wielded in the 
inner apartment. The theory is that the murderer succeeded 
in overpowering and choking the poor girl into insensibility in 
the auditorium of the church, after which he dragged her 
through the library and completed his work, which no power 
short of that derived from the devil himself, could have 
prompted him to do. In making his way from the auditorium 
to the library, he broke the lock of the door that connected the 
two apartments. 

On the evening preceding the discovery of the remains 
there was a meeting of the Young People’s Society at the 
residence of Dr. Vogel, not far from the church. Minnie Wil¬ 
liams was expected to be there. Shortly after seven o’clock 
that evening she left Mrs. Voy’s, remarking that she was 
going to the meeting, and taking a latch-key with her. At 
about the same hour Durant left his home, which was in the 
same vicinity, with the announced purpose of going to Dr. 
Vogel’s. He was seen about eight o’clock by a young man 


456 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


who, like himself, was a member of the signal corps, and 
some conversation ensued relative to a trip the corps was to 
make the next day. He did not present himself at Dr. 
Vogel’s until nine-thirty o’clock. When he did it was noticed, 
and afterwards recalled, that his hair was disarranged, his face 
whiter even than Usual, and covered with perspiration. Upon 
entering the house, which was thronged with company, the 
first thing he did was to beg permission to wash his hands. 
He was not long in recovering his composure, and during the 
remainder of the evening none laughed more merrily or 
entered more heartily into the sports and merriments than 
Theodore Durant. So perfect was his acting—if indeed he felt 
anything like remorse for the diabolical deed he had just com¬ 
mitted—that not a suspicion was aroused; indeed, many of 
those present at first refused to believe in his guilt on the 
ground that a murderer, just from the disfigured remains of 
his victim, could not have conducted himself as Theodore 
Durant did that evening. On general principles the point was 
well taken; not one man in thousands, of his age and ante¬ 
cedents, could have acted the part he did. But Durant was 
that one man. His character was as double as that of Dr. 
Jekyl. His most intimate friends regarded him as a good- 
natured, amiable, interesting young man; and not one in all 
the city had the slightest conception of the diabolical disposi¬ 
tion—worse than Anton Probst’s, and fully equaling that of 
“Jack the Ripper’’—which he masked behind his white and 
smiling face. After leaving the social gathering he was seen 
to enter the church. This was nothing unusual, since he 
carried a key to the edifice, and spent a good deal of his time 
upon the premises, where he was regarded in the light of a 
general utility man, making little repairs and being decidedly 
useful. Early the following morning, long before the murder 
was discovered, he started with his comrades of the signal 
corps for Mount Diablo, fifty miles away. 

A number of circumstances pointed to the young student as 
the murderer. He was known to have been on very friendly 
terms with Miss Williams, and had been seen with her on the 
street-car the afternoon before the murder. On Friday after- 


THEODORE DURANT 


457 


noon he was noticed at the dock where ferryboats from 
Alameda landed in the city. It is likely that he was there 
to meet Minnie Williams by appointment. It will be remem¬ 
bered that on that day she left the Morgans in Alameda, and 
removed her effects to the house of Mrs. Voy, near the church. 

In consequence of all these pointers, none of which, it 
must be admitted, were very compromising, and the circum¬ 
stance that not the slightest clue pointed to any other person, 
Theodore Durant fell under suspicion. Saturday night a 
newspaper reporter for the San Francisco Chronicle called at 
the Durant residence and interviewed Theodore’s mother. 
She was horrified at the murder, of which she had heard noth¬ 
ing, and still more so at the bare suggestion that her son could 
have had anything to do with the awful crime. She stated 
that Theodore was out of the city, but consented to allow the 
reporter to examine the clothes he had worn the preceding 
evening. The newspaper man expected to find blood-stains, 
but in this he was disappointed. But his search was not with¬ 
out results; in one of the pockets of the suit he found a 
woman’s pocketbook, which he carried away without opening 
it. At the Chronicle office it was examined and found to con¬ 
tain, besides a small amount of change and a few trinkets, 
some ferry-tickets good on boats running from Alameda to the 
city. Mr. Williams was sent for, and promptly and positively 
identified the pocketbook as one that had belonged to his 
daughter Minnie. Here was something tangible, decidedly 
incriminating, in fact. In telling the story in its issue of 
Sunday morning, the Chronicle boldly declared, not only that 
Durant was the murderer of Minnie Williams, but of Blanche 
Lamont as well, predicting that a thorough search of the 
“Hoodoo Church” would bring her remains to light. 

Sunday morning officers entered the Emanuel Baptist 
Church and began searching for the remains of Blanche 
Lamont. It looked like a foolish quest; that the body of the 
girl, who had been missing for eleven days, was hidden about 
the premises, seemed almost absurd, yet the search went on. 
Finally, when all the lower portion of the building had been 
minutely but fruitlessly examined, the party ascended to the 


45 8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


church-tower, or steeple. It contained no bell, and was used 
for no purpose whatever; indeed, few of the members of the 
church had ever entered it. The door was found securely 
locked, but bore evidence of having been recently forced open, 
there being marks of a chisel or some like instrument upon 
both door and casing. The officers lost no time in gaining an 
entrance. Accustomed as they were to awful and heart¬ 
rending scenes, they fairly started back at the horrid sight 
which was revealed by the flickering light of a match, the 
place being quite dark. 

Upon the floor of the lower room of the tower, just inside 
the door, lay the outraged, nude and bloated remains of what 
had once been a beautiful and cultivated girl, Blanche 
Lamont. A glance told the experienced searchers how the 
unfortunate young lady had met her death. About her neck 
were blue streaks, the marks of the strong, cruel fingers that 
had been imbedded in her tender flesh, choking out her young 
life. The face was fearfully distorted, the mouth being open, 
exposing the pearly teeth, and attesting the terrible death the 
poor girl had died. Her hair, which lay in disorder about her 
shoulders, was matted with blood and dirt. Altogether, it 
was a most gruesome sight. 

The clothing had disappeared, but a search soon brought 
some of it to light. Several articles were soon discovered on 
the joist above the room where the body lay. The disposition 
that the wretch had made of the dead girl’s clothing was one 
of the most curious things in this remarkable case. It was 
dispersed in as many places as there were pieces, no two being 
found together. Many articles were discovered in the shal¬ 
low space above the auditorium, the murderer having evi¬ 
dently crawled around to dispose of them. A long time was 
consumed in this search; indeed, it was several days before it 
was completed. At length, however, every article that 
Blanche Lamont was known to have worn, with the exception 
of one of her gloves, was recovered. The church-tower was 
provided with shutters, which freely admitted the air, and, but 
for the discovery of the body of Minnie Williams, which sug¬ 
gested a further search, months, years, might have passed 


THEODORE DURANT 


459 


without the cruel fate of Blanche Lamont being known. One 
of the most revolting features of this horrible case was sug¬ 
gested by the medical men who conducted the post-mortem 
examination. They decided that the outrages had occurred 
after death. 

A stranger contrast can hardly be conceived than was pre¬ 
sented in Emanuel Baptist Church that beautiful April morn¬ 
ing, as the bells of the city began to peal for the Easter serv¬ 
ices. The auditorium below was decked with a profusion of 
flowers in commemoration of the Risen Lord. Above, in the 
dark church-tower, lay the disfigured and dishonored body of 
one of the fairest of all the flock of believers that had been 
wont to meet before the altar below. 

Everything now pointed more strongly than ever to the 
guilt of the young student, who was away playing soldier, 
seemingly as unconcerned as the body of his victim in the 
church-tower. The finger-marks upon the throat had evi¬ 
dently been made with the left hand, and it was soon ascer¬ 
tained that Durant was ambidextrous, using either hand with 
equal facility. The head of the murdered girl had been raised 
by placing a piece of wood under it, or “blocked,” in the 
parlance of medical students, who so arrange cadavers upon 
the dissecting-table. 

The discovery of the body of Blanche Lamont created such 
an excitement as San Francisco has hardly known since the old 
days of vigilance committees. The day was bright, and the 
entire city poured into the streets. Thousands crowded 
around the church, rendered doubly uncanny by the latest 
terrible disclosure, while the streets in front of the newspaper 
offices were packed with masses of humanity, all struggling to 
get a view of the bulletin boards. So certain were the author¬ 
ities that Durant was the murderer that they at once tele¬ 
graphed to all the sheriffs and officers in the neighborhood of 
Mount Diablo, to look for and arrest the young militia-man. 

About five o’clock in the afternoon of Sunday a dispatch 
was received announcing the arrest of Theodore Durant. He 
ha^ been taken at Walnut Creek on the road to Mount Diablo, 
7 j Detective Anthoney, a San Francisco officer who had left 


460 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the city early in the morning. The officer reached San Fran¬ 
cisco toward evening. The news of his expected arrival had 
been widely spread, and an immense crowd congregated at the 
ferry-house to await his coming from Oakland. The crowd 
clamored for the life of the prisoner, so intense was the excite¬ 
ment, and, but for the presence of a large number of police- 
officers, violence might have been offered to him. Durant was 
hurried into a waiting patrol-wagon and driven away to the 
city prison. 

Upon the discovery and identification of the remains, the 
chief of police sent for the Rev. John George Gibson, pastor 
of the church. This gave rise to the report that the clergyman 
had been arrested, charged with the awful crimes, and for a 
time many believed him to be guilty, reports to that effect 
being telegraphed all over the country. Crowds surrounded 
the pastor’s residence, extra papers were issued, and the wild¬ 
est excitement prevailed. Nothing of the kind had taken 
place, however, the chief only wishing to learn what light Mr. 
Gibson and the church-sexton could throw upon the matter. 
Later, upon the trial of Durant, the attorneys for the defense 
undertook to asperse the character of this worthy man, broadly 
intimating that he was the real murderer. But the feeling 
against him had passed away, and his absolute innocence 
was almost universally recognized. 

At the time of her disappearance, Blanche Lamont wore 
four rings. On Saturday, the day the mutilated body of 
Minnie Williams was discovered, Mrs. Charles Noble, the aunt 
of the missing girl, received by mail three of these rings 
wrapped in paper, upon which was written the names of 
George R. King, organist of the church, and Prof. Schonstein, 
who taught Blanche music. Experts declared that the writing 
had been done by Theodore Durant, who had made an effort 
to disguise his hand. It was afterwards learned that Durant 
had pawned the fourth ring, and these facts told heavily 
against him upon the trial. Foolish and reckless as these 
proceedings were, they were in perfect accord with the young 
man’s strange behavior throughout the entire case. On April 
19th the coroner’s jury completed its investigations, and found 


THEODORE DURANT 


461 

that Blanche Lamont came to her death at the hands of Theo¬ 
dore Durant. He was remanded to jail to await his trial. 

The trial of Theodore Durant was intensely interesting, the 
court-room being constantly crowded. It began on Septem¬ 
ber 1st, and occupied several weeks. Although entirely cir¬ 
cumstantial, the evidence was very conclusive in its character 
and scope, and left no doubt of the guilt—the awful guilt—of 
the accused. One of the most interesting pieces of testimony 
was that of George R. King, the church organist. On the 
afternoon of April 3d, the day of Blanche Lamont’s disap¬ 
pearance, he entered the church for the purpose of practicing 
some music that he designed to render on Easter Sunday. 
While playing the organ he was startled by an unusual noise, 
and looked quickly in the direction from whence it proceeded, 
when he saw Durant. The naturally pale face of the student 
was almost entirely destitute of color. It was bathed in 
perspiration, and he was trembling violently. He explained 
that he had been doing some work in the church. He had not 
been feeling well, he said, and the sound of the organ had 
somehow unnerved him. He asked King to go to a drug store 
in the neighborhood and procure some bromo-seltzer for him. 
The organist readily complied, Durant mixed and drank a por¬ 
tion of it, and the two left the church together, parting company 
soon afterwards. It is more than likely that King entered the 
church as the fiend was disposing of the body of his victim. 
What wonder that the organ, pealing forth the notes announc¬ 
ing the resurrection of the Savior, should unnerve the wretch, 
and send him to the auditorium to make sure of King’s 
absence for a few minutes, that he might complete the work 
of hiding from view the tell-tale evidences of his awful work! 
Beyond all question he returned to the church as soon as he 
had gotten rid of his troublesome companion. 

A lady living opposite to the church testified to having seen 
Durant and Miss Lamont enter the church on the afternoon 
of her disappearance. This lady had kept silent about the 
matter until the trial, not wishing to make herself conspicuous, 
and her testimony produced something of a sensation, and had 
great weight against the prisoner at the bar. 


462 MURDER IN ALL AGES 

It was shown that Durant was not at the college to attend 
the medical lecture on that fateful April 3d. He had had one 
of his comrades answer to his name at roll-call—a not unprec¬ 
edented proceeding, as some who have been students will 
admit. He had also secured the note-book of one of his 
friends, from which he made entries in his own. This point 
was strongly contested, the defense undertaking to show that 
he was present at the lecture, which would have impeached the 
testimony of some of the State’s witnesses, notably the lady 
who saw him enter the church with Blanche Lamont. 

For three or four nights after Durant was apprehended he 
was excessively nervous, often wakening up in the night, 
screaming with affright. After that, however, he entirely 
regained his composure, and remained cool and collected dur¬ 
ing the long trial that ensued. On September 9th he was 
placed in the witness-box to try to establish his innocence of 
the awful crime for the commission of which he was arraigned. 
His manner showed not the slightest concern; indeed, his 
wonderful nerve was commented upon by all present. He 
denied in toto all the testimony of an incriminating character 
that had been introduced against him. He admitted that he 
had been at the wharf on the afternoon of Minnie Williams’ 
murder, and made the following weak explanation. He said 
that two days before the discovery of her body he was 
accosted by a stranger in the street, who asked him if his 
name was not Durant. Upon receiving an affirmative answer, 
the stranger asked him if he was interested in the missing 
Blanche Lamont. Durant assured him that nothing could give 
him greater pleasure than to ascertain her whereabouts, 
whereupon the other said: “Watch the ferries, then. She will 
try to cross the bay. That is my advice.’’ It was to follow 
this advice and discover his missing friend that had caused 
him to go to the docks. 

On cross-examination, Durant was badly muddled in sev¬ 
eral particulars. Asked why he had not communicated the 
clue he had received from the stranger to Blanche Lamont’s 
friends, he claimed that he had had no opportunity. Pressed 
on the point, he was forced to admit that he had seen a num- 


THEODORE DURANT 


463 


ber of her most intimate friends at the gathering at Dr. Vogel’s 
on the night when Minnie Williams was murdered. More 
than that, he had conversed with the doctor, who, next to 
Mrs. Noble, had manifested the greatest concern at her disap¬ 
pearance. He said that he had not spoken to Dr. Vogel 
because it had not occurred to him at the time. Taken alto¬ 
gether, the testimony of the defendant tended to weaken such 
defense as his lawyers had been able to make for him. 

Theodore Durant was the first criminal tried in California 
under the law which provides that fourteen jurymen be sworn 
in the case and listen to the entire evidence. The two in 
excess of the regulation twelve provided by the common law, 
are only to serve, and that in the order in which they are 
sworn, in the case of the death, disability or dismissal of one 
or two of the twelve regular jurymen. In his case neither of 
the two reserves was called upon to act, though both sat 
through the entire trial. Durant was ably defended, a little 
unscrupulously, it may be said, since the effort to persuade the 
jury that the Rev. Mr. Gibson was the guilty party, unsup¬ 
ported by any tangible evidence, was almost the refinement of 
cruelty. Such effect as this course had upon the jury was to 
prejudice them against one in whose behalf such unprofes¬ 
sional methods were employed. There is not in the mind of 
any candid person, informed in the premises, the slightest 
doubt as to the guilt of Theodore Durant, not alone of the 
crime for which he was tried, but of the murder of Minnie 
Williams as well. He was promptly found guilty, and sen¬ 
tenced to be hanged February 7, 1896. His attorneys took an 
appeal to the Supreme Court of California, but a new trial was 
denied. 

To follow in detail the history of the Durant case would be 
to write a chapter upon the “law’s delays.’’ Blanche Lamont 
was killed on April 3, 1895, and Minnie Williams nine days 
later. The murderer was arrested on April 14, 1895, yet 
nearly three years elapsed before he was called upon to 
expiate his awful crimes. Appeals were taken to every court 
that could grant relief or delay, and to every power that could 
pardon or reprieve. Four times was the wretch sentenced to 


464 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


death, the last occasion being December 15, 1897. Even then 
hope was not resigned, and a final appeal was made to the 
Supreme Court of the United States, which, at almost the 
last moment, declined to interfere with the tardy course of 
California justice. 

Theodore Durant was executed on January 7, 1898, and 
met death with the utmost composure, protesting his innocence 
almost at the last moment. From the scaffold, beside the 
swinging noose that was so soon to launch him into eternity, 
his eyes often resting upon the face of his father, who stood 
in the large throng before him, the murderer spoke thus: 

“To those who wish me to say something, I wish to say 
this: That I have no animosity against any one but those who 
have persecuted me ana have hounded me to my grave, inno¬ 
cent as I am. I forgive them all. They will receive their 
justice from the Holy God above, to whom I now go to receive 
my justice, which will be the justice given to an innocent boy, 
who has not stained his hands with the crimes that have been 
put upon him by the press of San Francisco. I forgive them 
all, for I do not hold anything against them for it. 

“I do not look upon people now as enemies. I forgive 
them as I expect to be forgiven for anything that I have done; 
but the fair fame of California will forever be blackened with 
the crime of taking this innocent blood, and whether or no 
they ever discover the committers of these crimes matters 
little to me now, for I appear before the whole world inno¬ 
cent, to proclaim my innocence for the last time, and to those 
who have insinuated that I was going to spring a sensation of 
any kind, I can say that there is no sensation other than that of 
which I have spoken. 

“They must consider for themselves who wished to start up 
a sensation. That I am innocent I say now, this day, before 
God, to whom I now go to meet my dues. I am innocent.'’ 

Before his death, Durant made a profession of the Catholic 
faith, and was attended in his last hours and upon the scaffold 
by Rev. Father Logan. Rev. William Roder, who had been 
his spiritual adviser before he became a Catholic, expressed 
himself as entirely satisfied of the condemned man’s guilt, 



DISCOVERING THE REMAINS OE MINNIE WILLIAMS.—PAGE 454 






















THEODORE DURANT 


465 


though he did not say that he had ever made a formal con¬ 
fession to him. Mr. Roder spoke of Durant as a psychological 
monster, not to be classed with the ordinary criminal. The 
following, from the San Francisco Call of January 8, 1898, may 
prove of interest to students of heredity: 

“The black cap when taken off disclosed a shocking sight. 
The face was almost black; the eyes half protruding, and the 
lips half open. The jaws were firmly, rigorously set; the 
features distorted. The parents kissed the lips of the dead. 
Mrs. Durant wept. Her husband mingled his tears with hers, 
and tried with her vainly to smooth the visage of their son into 
its former likeness. Everybody present turned to the windows 
to conceal their sympathetic emotions. When their eyes were 
again cast upon the scene both parents had taken seats near the 
coffin. Mr. and Mrs. Durant were chatting, and she was smiling. 

“Thus they had remained quite a while, when convict Wil¬ 
son, who is detailed to care for these rooms, approached and 
asked Mrs. Durant if she would not like a cup of tea. ‘Thank 
you, I would, ’ was her reply. 

“Instead of tea, a tray loaded with an abundance of every¬ 
thing the prison dinner-fare afforded, was sent to the coffin 
side. Here a table was spread within three feet of the corpse. 
The parents seated themselves and ate heartily; ate all uncon¬ 
sciously of every presence, living and dead; ate till they were 
sated. How they ate may be judged from the request over¬ 
heard by the shocked and disgusted witnesses: ‘Papa, give me 
some more of the roast. ’ 

“After the remains of the unnatural repast had been taken 
away, they sat conversing until the body was borne from the 
prison. ’ ’ 

The Durant murders and the shocking disclosures that fol¬ 
lowed, had stirred the people of the Pacific coast as nothing 
ever did before, and the rejoicing at his death was almost uni¬ 
versal, and so intense was the popular detestation that no 
cemetery would receive his dishonored remains, which were 
finally reduced to ashes through the process of cremation. 

It is difficult to classify the case of Theodore Durant. At 
first sight the homicidal impulse suggests itself as the moving 


466 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


cause, and doubtless this is true, though other- devilish inclina¬ 
tions were mingled with the desire to kill. After Durant’s 
arrest it was learned from some of his fellow-students who 
knew him intimately and were themselves, very possibly, 
inclined to be a little wild, that he was not the exemplary 
person he had commonly been believed to be. Those in a 
position to read his real character considered him decidedly 
hypocritical, and took not the slightest stock in his claim of 
leading a religious life. To more than one of his companions 
he boasted of the intimate relations he had sustained with 
women. He told of trips he had taken to Carson City, in com¬ 
pany with three railroad men, and how they had, upon one 
occasion, most brutally treated an Indian woman. This last 
matter probably explains, so far as it can be done, the 
ruling passion of Durant’s life. His nature was doubtless 
perverted, the most unnatural and horrible ideas presenting 
themselves to his mind. 

It seems quite likely that he murdered Minnie Williams 
because she had some suspicion, perhaps positive knowledge, 
of the fate of Blanche Lamont. In view of his strange conduct, 
particularly in sending the rings to Mrs. Noble, it is not at all 
unlikely that he told Minnie something about himself. Men 
capable of committing such outrageous and unnatural crimes 
are quite capable of boasting of their infamy; indeed, such a 
proceeding was hardly more reckless than to leave the mutilated 
remains of his latest victim where they were certain to be dis¬ 
covered the following day, and go off on a scouting expedition. 

It was not claimed that Durant was insane, yet that there 
was something morally defective in his make-up is apparent. 
Cases like his do not, most happily, often occur, but their 
occurrence is frequent enough to show that “man is joined to 
the beasts of the field by his body,” and may become some¬ 
thing worse than a beast of prey, when he flings aside con¬ 
science, love of humanity and God, and resolves, no matter at 
the expense of what crimes, to gratify his bestial tendencies. 
The short life of Theodore Durant presents one of the saddest, 
most brutal pictures in the entire history of human depravity 
and crime. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 

“When lovely woman stoops to folly 
And learns too late that men betray, 

What art can soothe her melancholy, 

What care can drive her grief away?” 

Beautiful Pearl Bryan, a rustic yet most attractive maiden 
of Greencastle, Ind., fully realized in her own brief life and 
sad, tragic death, these words of Goldsmith. Murder is surely 
akin to lust, for it often follows fast upon its predecessor’s 
heels, as is exemplified in the tragedy that had three States for 
its stage, the first act being presented in a quiet little city of 
Indiana, the second in the metropolis of Ohio, the third in 
the Kentucky thickets, near Cincinnati, and the fourth in the 
yard of the jail at Newport. 

About eight o’clock on the morning of February i, 1896, a 
colored boy by the name of John Hewling, the son of a neigh¬ 
boring farmer, while crossing the property of John Locke, near 
Fort Thomas, Kentucky, just south of Cincinnati, made a dis¬ 
covery that he will not forget while he lives; a discovery that 
sent him fairly flying from the spot. As he was hurrying 
along to his work, whistling merrily in the clear, cold air of 
the morning, he came suddenly upon a headless human body. 

The form was that of a woman, who must have been beau¬ 
tiful in life. But the boy did not wait any close scrutiny, but 
ran to give the alarm, notifying a farmer, who, in turn, 
apprised the local police, and the body was removed to New¬ 
port, no great distance away. When found it was dressed 
only in a suit of union underclothing, and a cheap checked 
wrapper. The ghastly operation of removing the head had 
doubtless been performed with a view to preventing identi- 

467 


4 68 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


fication, yet, with a carelessness so often noticed in similar 
cases, lying near by were articles calculated to lead to the 
speedy and certain discovery of the murdered woman’s iden¬ 
tity. These consisted of a glove, corset and a pair of shoes. 

The latter bore the stamp of “Lewis & Hayes, Greencastle, 
Indiana,’’ and furnished the first tangible clew destined to 
unravel the awful mystery that enshrouded the headless form. 
Inquiries were at once made at Greencastle, and, four da3 r s 
after the discovery of the remains, all the articles of clothing, 
including even some hairpins, were positively identified as 
those of Pearl Bryan, by A. S. Bryan, a highly respected 
farmer living near the little city, and his weeping family. 

A more awful or unexpected blow has seldom descended 
upon the heads of a loving and united family. The youngest 
child, Pearl, had been the flower of the flock, the universal pet 
of the household. At the time of her sad death she was 
twenty-two years of age, and went much in society, moving 
only in the very best circles. She seemed quite susceptible to 
the attentions of young men, but had no recognized sweet¬ 
heart. She was regarded as of a cold rather than a passionate 
disposition, though likely to bow before the demands of a 
superior intellect. When Pearl Bryan left her home on Jan¬ 
uary 26, 1896, she was regarded as a pure and guileless 
maiden, yet, instead of repairing to Indianapolis, to visit 
friends, as her family supposed, she went to Cincinnati, to 
become the subject of a criminal operation. 

But, though the unfortunate girl’s relatives and friends 
were blissfully ignorant of her wrong-doing, the Cincinnati 
authorities were not. A. W. Early, a telegraph operator at 
Greencastle, sent the detectives the following information: 
He had a friend in Greencastle, a young man named William 
T. Wood, the son of a prominent Methodist clergyman. This 
Will Wood had told Early that he had received letters from 
Scott Jackson, a dental student of Cincinnati, touching the 
condition of Pearl Bryan. Wood said it was necessary, in 
order to preserve Pearl’s reputation, for her to go to Cincin¬ 
nati, where Jackson would have a friend, a surgeon and 
chemist, to take care of her. 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 469 

The detectives who had gone to Greencastle at once noti¬ 
fied Colonel Deitsch, chief of police of Cincinnati, who caused 
Jackson to be located and arrested. This was on February 
5th, the day after the identification of the clothing. This was 
most expeditious work, in marked contrast to that often done 
in mysterious murder cases. At the same time, it must be 
remembered that the clues were clear and distinct, and could 
not well have led to different results. When first approached 
by the officers Jackson talked quite freely, indignantly assert¬ 
ing his innocence. He stated that he had a roommate named 
Alonzo M. Walling, and the latter was sent for, but was 
released after being closely questioned, Jackson being locked 
up. A few hours later a Cincinnati reporter, who was work¬ 
ing on the case and who seems to have been possessed of some 
real ability as a detective, decided that Walling had been an 
accomplice of Jackson, and swore out a warrant for his arrest, 
which was promptly served. The following day detectives 
who had been detailed to locate and arrest Will Wood, 
arrived in the city with the minister’s son in charge, they hav¬ 
ing apprehended him in South Bend, Ind. Wood claimed to 
be innocent of all complicity in the murder, but admitted that 
he had sent Pearl Bryan to Cincinnati, that her shame, of 
which he was cognizant, might be covered up. He was 
released on $5,000 bail. 

Jackson had formed the acquaintance of Miss Bryan during 
the summer and early autumn of 1895, in Greencastle, where 
he had gone to visit his mother, who was staying there. At 
that time he became very intimate with young Wood, whom 
he afterwards charged with having first led the young woman 
astray. Jackson spent the ensuing holidays in Greencastle, 
and learned the girl’s condition. After this he corresponded 
with Wood, through whom he seems to have arranged to have 
Pearl come to Cincinnati. Wood made a confidant of the tele¬ 
graph operator, and hence the entire plot was brought to 
light. Wood was subsequently surrendered by his bondsmen 
. and spent some time in jail. He was afterwards released, and 
was an important witness against the murderers. He was 
rather a weak young man, who, like Pearl Bryan, fell under 


470 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


th 6 domination of Jackson’s stronger will, but he surely had 
no idea that the girl’s murder was contemplated. 

Slowly but surely the coils of the law began to tighten 
around the two guilty students. A colored man, a waiter in a 
saloon, reported that Jackson and Walling, accompanied by a 
woman who answered well to the description of Pearl Bryan, 
had visited the place on the night of Friday, January 31, 1896. 
This was supported by the statement of the proprietor, Dave 
Wallingford. The waiter claimed to have heard Jackson say 
that night: “I would like to have a woman’s head to dissect.” 

At this point the two wretches began to contradict each 
other, a course which they pursued until they appeared upon 
the fatal trap, something more than a year later. Walling 
admitted that he was at the saloon at the time stated, while 
Jackson claimed that he was elsewhere himself. Each of the 
scoundrels attempted to throw the blame upon the other. 
Walling told the officers that Jackson had killed the girl by 
giving her injections of prussic acid or cocaine, he did not 
know which. It is more than probable that her death was 
attempted in this manner, since cocaine was found in the body 
by the examining chemist. This Jackson denied, maintaining 
that Walling had agreed to perform the operation, and in 
doing so had killed her. Each, with the most solemn oaths, 
asserted that the other had severed the head from the body of 
the dead girl. 

That both men were awfully, if not equally guilty, admits 
of no sort of doubt. Walling’s trousers, taken from his locker 
in the college, were muddy and spotted with blood, while Jack¬ 
son’s coat, flecked all over with blood spots, was fished out of a 
sewer at the corner of John and Richmond streets, where the 
officers, acting under Walling’s drections, located it. In Jack¬ 
son’s pockets were found six handkerchiefs, proven to have 
belonged to the betrayed and murdered girl. 

All of the time that Pearl Bryan passed in Cincinnati was 
never satisfactorily accounted for. On Thursday afternoon 
preceding the murder Walling was seen with a young woman 
at the Central Union Station. It was tolerably certain that 
she had determined to return to her home and friends in 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 


47i 


Greencastle, and that the unfeeling wretch, who had no 
motive other than to assist his friend Jackson to escape from 
an embarrassing predicament, or the gratification of the homi¬ 
cidal impulse, deliberately detained her until the last train for 
that day had departed. For a day or two after the murder 
Jackson carried about with him a valise. This was subse¬ 
quently found, and was blood-stained on the inside, the theory 
of the officers being that it had contained the severed head of 
the unfortunate young woman. If this appears unreasonable, 
impossible almost, it should be remembered that Scott Jackson 
was a hardened villain, destitute of conscience and possessed of 
the most morbid fancies. It is very possible that he medi¬ 
tated dissecting it, as suggested by the colored man’s state¬ 
ment. The head was never found, though large rewards were 
offered for its production, and the two murderers carried the 
awful secret to their graves. Jackson doubtless disposed of it 
in some way. 

On May nth, a Mr. Irvine, of Covington, Ky., visited the 
jail in Cincinnati, and identified Jackson and Walling as two 
men he had seen haggling with a negro, apparently about the 
price of some service, the morning that the headless body was 
found. From this time great efforts were made to find this 
negro. 

It is seldom that the entwisted threads of a murder mys¬ 
tery are unraveled in an orderly and connected manner, the 
maudlin love for notoriety usually bringing some outsider into 
the plot. This occurred in the Pearl Bryan case. At a time 
when the authorities were moving swiftly towards the final 
solution of the dark crime a sensational and morbid woman 
appeared on the scene in the person of Lulu May Hollings¬ 
worth, of Knox City, Ind. 

She came to Cincinnati and called upon the police, claim¬ 
ing to know all about the entire transaction. She stated that 
Pearl Bryan had met her death while submitting to a criminal 
operation, undertaken at her own request. Lulu claimed to 
know Jackson, and said she had received a letter from him in 
which he stated the spot where the decapitation had taken 
place. The letter stated that Pearl had died in Jackson’s 


472 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


room, and that he had hired a negro to take the body away in 
a buggy to the thicket near Fort Thomas, where Jackson was 
in waiting. There Jackson paid the negro to cut off the head, 
which he took charge of himself, throwing it into the river, 
from the suspension bridge. 

Lulu claimed that she had once known Miss Bryan, and 
had met her in a railway depot a few days before her death, 
when she had made her a confidante of all her troubles. The 
police believed the story to be true, but an investigation of 
some of the statements demonstrated that they were entirely 
false. It was decided that Miss Hollingsworth knew nothing 
of the matter, it having been ascertained that she was devoted 
to everything of a sensational character. It is believed that 
she was induced to tell the stories she did by friends of Jack- 
son and Walling, who hoped that the so-called disclosures 
might make in their favor. 

Coroner Tingley, of Jackson county, Kentucky, held an 
inquest on the remains of the murdered woman on February 
12th, the following verdict being rendered by the jury: 

“First. That the dead body found on the farm of John 
Locke, near Fort Thomas, February ist, is the body of Pearl 
Bryan, late of Greencastle, Ind. 

“Second. That cocaine had been administered to the 
woman. 

“Third. That the decapitation had taken place while the 
woman was still alive, and at the place where the body was 
found. 

“Fourth. That Pearl Bryan, Scott Jackson and Alonzo 
M. Walling were last seen together at six o’clock on Friday 
evening, January 31st, entering a cab together at George and 
Plum streets, Cincinnati, and that the cab was driven south in 
the direction of Fort Thomas.” 

As to cocaine, Dr. W. H. Crane, of Cincinnati, swore that 
he had not yet completed an analysis of the stomach, but had 
found one-fourth of a grain of the drug and thought he would 
recover a full grain. He ultimately recovered two-thirds of a 
grain. Dr. Caruthers, who held the post-mortem, gave it as 
his opinion that decapitation had been performed while there 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 


473 


was still life in the body, and this view was supported by the 
evidence of twigs and leaves cut from bushes the morning the 
body was discovered. These showed blood-stains on the lower 
side, demonstrating that blood must have spurted into the air 
to a height of from two to six feet. This was regarded as very 
important, since the question of venue seemed certain to arise 
upon the trial. 

Scott Jackson and Alonzo M. Walling were promptly 
indicted in Jackson county, Kentucky, for the murder of Pearl 
Bryan. Formal charges had already been made against them 
in Hamilton county, Ohio, but they were subsequently held as 
fugitives from justice. A requisition was obtained from the 
governor of Kentucky, and the prisoners were surrendered by 
the Ohio authorities and taken to the jail in Newport, the 
county-seat of Jackson county. There were threats of lynch¬ 
ing, and extra precautions for the safety of the prisoners were 
taken. It all ended in talk, however, and no overt acts of 
violence were attempted. 

A strong case had now been made against the students, but 
it is extremely doubtful whether it was strong enough to have 
secured their conviction, there being some links missing in the 
chain of evidence. How came the body at the lonely spot 
near Fort Thomas? Was Pearl Bryan murdered in Ohio or 
Kentucky? These were all-important questions, the last one 
particularly, since the evident defense would largely be one of 
venue. If tried in Kentucky, the defense would claim that 
death had occurred in Ohio, while if they were arraigned in 
the latter State they would set up the defense that death had 
taken place in Kentucky. Unless better evidence could be 
found, this would put the authorities in something like a 
dilemma, since a man can only once be placed in jeopardy. 
Fortune, or perhaps the conscience of a colored man, came to 
the law’s assistance. 

Jackson was the name of the most guilty of the two mur¬ 
derers, and he had been indicted and was shortly to be 
arraigned in Jackson county. By a singular coincidence the 
name of the new witness was also Jackson. 

On the afternoon of February 15th, George H. Jackson, 


474 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


private coachman for Major Widdekind, on McGregor Avenue, 
Mount Auburn, called to police officer Ed. Swain, who was 
passing where he was at work, and asked if the missing head of 
Pearl Bryan had been found. Informed that it had not been 
found, he asked if they had discovered the coachman, and was 
told no. Then he fairly startled the officers by asking him 
this question: 

“If they should find the coachman would he be held for the 
crime along with the murderers?’' 

Swain diplomatically replied that he thought not, though 
this would of course depend upon the part the driver of the 
vehicle had played in the tragedy. Thus encouraged, Jackson 
told the officer his story. Later he repeated his remarkable 
narrative to Lieutenant Thornton, of the Mount Auburn 
police, and that night told exactly the same story to the 
mayor. Jackson was a man of good repute in Cincinnati. On 
the trial an effort was made to discredit his testimony, but it 
was not successful. His remarkable story, to which he after¬ 
wards adhered, and which was doubtless true, was as follows: 

He was drill-master and commander of' the Caldwell 
Guards, a colored military organization of Cincinnati. On the 
night of January 31st, he was engaged in drilling the company 
until about midnight. After dismissing the guards he was 
standing with others on the corner of George and Elm streets, 
in the “Tenderloin district,’’ when a tall, dark-haired man, 
wearing a corduroy cap, came up and said: 

“Do any of you fellows want to make five dollars by driving 
a carriage to-night?’’ 

This was exactly in the drill-master’s line, and he promptly 
accepted the offer. In a few minutes a square-boxed surrey, 
drawn by a gray horse, was driven up, and Jackson mounted 
the driver’s box, the dark man taking his seat beside him. 
He was told that there was a doctor and a sick woman in the 
surrey, who were to be taken to Newport. The man with the 
corduroy cap directed him where to drive, and they crossed the 
bridge over the Ohio River and entered Newport. Jackson 
could not see the occupants of the carriage by reason of a 
drawn curtain, but he heard the voice of a man proceed from 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 


475 


the vehicle, and what he described as a “funny noise made by 
a woman.” 

After driving through the streets of Newport, Jackson 
became badly frightened, and made an effort to jump from the 
box, but the man beside him placed a revolver to his head, and 
said: 

“You drive that horse, or I’ll make an end of you very 
quickly. * ’ 

The man took his name and asked him many questions 
about himself, telling him afterwards that if he said a word to 
any one about the transactions of the night he would kill him, 
and added: 

“If we get into any trouble we have friends on the outside 
who would follow you up and kill you ” 

This badly frightened Jackson. After the arrest of the two 
murderers he constantly imagined that he was being fol¬ 
lowed, and fear kept him from disclosing what had occurred to 
the authorities. 

“The man on the seat directed me how to go,” he said, in 
his statement to the mayor. “It was a very crooked road. 
We came out at last, where they told me to stop. There were 
some thickets near by. They said the house where the woman 
was to go was not very far away. They would take her across 
there, and would whistle when they were ready to go back. 
They told me to turn the horse around and wait for them. 
The man in the surrey got out first and helped the woman. 
She leaned on him heavity, and as she walked dragged her 
feet. It was too dark for me to see anything. The man who 
got out of the surrey was not as tall as the man who sat by me. 
The man got off his seat and assisted in taking the woman 
away in the darkness. 

“I looked for a hitching-block, and expected to find a round 
one; instead of that I found a piece of railway rail about a foot 
long, with two holes in it. I hitched the horse to that and 
waited a little while. I heard a very queer noise, something 
like scuffling in the leaves, along with a noise that I cannot 
describe, that I think was made by a woman. It sounded like 
a woman’s cry in distress. I remembered the strange noise 


476 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


that the woman had been making all the way out. The noise 
that I heard in the thicket frightened me, and I ran away as 
hard as I could run. I got home on foot about 4:30 o’clock in 
the morning. 

“I didn’t see anything more of them. When I heard of 
this murder I thought it must be the same case. I was afraid 
to talk on account of the threats made. At last I thought I 
ought to talk about it, and tell all I knew. I did not see any 
of these parties, either the men or the woman, so that I could 
recognize their faces. The man on the seat beside me had a 
big overcoat on him, and I could not tell whether he was 
slender or not. All three wore dark clothing, and the woman 
wore a veil over her face. Before I started from Cincinnati 
the carriage was driven to me, closed all around, at the corner 
of George and Elm streets. ’ ’ 

Late that night Jackson was taken to the jail in Cincin¬ 
nati, and without the slightest hesitation picked Walling out of 
about thirty prisoners who had been hastily assembled to test 
him. After looking him over very critically for a minute or 
two he declared: “I am sure this is the man wlio was on the 
seat with me, but if I could hear his voice I could tell better.” 
Walling was ordered to speak, and to repeat the threats Jack- 
son claimed he had made. When he had done this the negro 
said: 

“That’s his voice, only it’s a little stronger.” 

As to Scott Jackson, the coachman was not so certain. He 
had only seen him in the darkness, and could not select him, 
but he pointed to several men of about his size—Jackson was 
five feet and six inches in height, Walling five feet and nine 
inches. When Jackson was brought forward and made to 
speak, the negro declared that his voice was like that of the 
man in the surrey, who had once ordered him to turn around. 

The next day detectives Grim and McDermitt discovered 
in the stable of the Walnut Hill Cab Company a rockaway and 
a gray horse that had been let out on the night of the murder 
to a man answering to the general description of Walling. 
Jackson did not at first recognize this as the vehicle he had 
driven to Fort Thomas at the muzzle of a revolver, but when 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 


477 


a curtain was adjusted he declared it to be the same, and was 
about equally certain as to the horse. 

Late that night a procession of a number of carriages, filled 
with police officers and reporters, started from Cincinnati for 
the scene of the murder, Jackson taking the lead with the gray 
horse and the rockaway. At the Newport bridge another link 
in the awful chain of evidence was forged. Toll-collector 
Tarvin said he remembered that a surrey driven by a colored 
man passed over the bridge about one o’clock on the morning 
of February ist. It contained a man and a woman, and a 
white man sat beside the driver. 

Jackson stopped his horse about two hundred yards from 
the spot where the body was found. “Here,” said he, “is 
where they left me with the woman.” Standing there he 
dramatically repeated his story. When he mentioned having 
hitched the horse to the short piece of railway iron, one of the 
officers suddenly recalled the circumstance that the bloody coat 
of Jackson, found in the catch-basin at the corner of John and 
Richmond streets, was wrapped about a piece of railway iron 
that exactly corresponded to the negro’s description of the one 
to which the gray horse was hitched, when he ran away from 
the scene of the awful murder. What gave this incident great 
force was the circumstance that no mention of the railroad 
iron had been made in any of the papers, and Jackson could 
not have heard of it. 

A few days after the murder the keeper of a disreputable 
house in Cincinnati called at police headquarters and told the 
officer in charge that on the night of Sunday, February 2d, a 
man had come to her house and left a pair of bloody overshoes 
under a sofa. These shoes were found to exactly fit Walling, 
and the woman positively identified him as the man who had 
left them in her place. 

The statement of the colored coachman produced a decided 
effect upon Will Wood, who was then in jail. He had been 
decidedly reticent, but on February 20th he made a full state¬ 
ment of his connection with the affair. He had destroyed all 
the letters received from Jackson, but had read them so fre¬ 
quently and attentively that he claimed he accurately remem- 


478 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


bered their contents. He repeated two of them. The first 
ran as follows: 

“Hello, Bill. I expect you think I have forgotten you, but 
I haven’t. I have been awfully busy this week. I have not 
been over to Kentucky yet, so you may know that I have been 
very busy. I work all day in the college, and then in the dis¬ 
secting room, so you see I am busy for surd. Well, for busi¬ 
ness. Tell Bert to come on. I have a very nice room with a 
very nice old lady. A friend of Walling is going to do the 
work, an old hand at the biz. We go to his house to-night for 
supper. He is a chemist. I think I will have enough money, 
but tell Bert to bring all she can, for it may come handy. 
Tell her to leave G. C. so as to get here Monday night. Tell 
her she can go home in four or five days. Push it along. 
Don’t go back on me now when I am this near out of my 
trouble. Be sure and burn this as soon as read. Your chum, 
always. D. ” 

Wood gave the second letter in these words: 

“Hello, Bill. Be awful careful what you say. I am 
expecting trouble. Oh, Lord, stand by me. Do you think 
Doc will? Write him. I made a big mistake, and it’s going 
to get me in trouble. Don’t forsake me now. Now is when 
I need you most. Write Doc. He’ll stand up for me, won’t 
he? Say, Bill, I wish I had never seen that girl and never 

seen G. C. -my tough luck anyway. Be sure and burn 

this. Don’t let any one see it. Now, Bill, stand by your old 
chum. D. ” 

The two prisoners were granted separate trials. That of 
Scott Jackson began in Newport on April 22d, 1896, and lasted 
three weeks. Commonwealth Attorney A. R. Lockhart con¬ 
ducted the prosecution. He had several assistants, among 
them Attorney Hayes of Greencastle, who was employed and 
paid by Pearl Bryan’s father, A. S. Bryan. Col. L. J. Craw¬ 
ford defended Jackson. He made a strong effort to show that 
Miss Bryan had died in Cincinnati and her body been brought 
to Kentucky after life was extinct, but in this he failed. A 
strong attack was made upon the testimony of George H. 
Jackson, several colored men swearing that they had been in 
his company until two o’clock on the Morning of February 1st. 


THE PEARL BRYAN MURDER 


479 


But Colonel Crawford’s defense, though the best that could 
have been presented, proved unavailing, and on May 14th 
Scott Jackson was found guilty of the murder of Pearl Bryan 
and sentenced to death. Alonzo Walling took a change of 
venue to an adjoining county, where he was tried soon after¬ 
wards, found guilty and also sentenced to death. He was 
brought back to Newport and placed in jail to await execution. 

The condemned men had friends and appeals were taken 
to the Supreme Court of Kentucky. New trials were denied, 
and they were sentenced to be hanged on March 20, 1897. 
Great efforts were made to save their lives, strong appeals 
being made to Governor Bradley for a commutation of sen¬ 
tence to imprisonment for life. But the chief executive stead¬ 
fastly declined to interfere with the course of justice. Especial 
efforts were made in behalf of Walling. It was claimed that 
he was a weak man mentally, that he had no motive to commit 
the crime, and had been led, forced, into it, by the dominant 
will of Jackson. 

As the day fixed for their execution drew near, the papers 
were full of alleged confessions, made and shortly to be made, 
by the two men, each of whom continued to throw the blame 
upon the other. On the morning of the execution Jackson 
made a statement to the effect that Walling was innocent, but 
learning that, in no event, would this secure clemency for 
himself, he withdrew the confession, and stubbornly main¬ 
tained his own entire innocence. 

The sheriff had arranged to have the hanging take place at 
seven o’clock in the morning, but, thinking that Governor 
Bradley might grant a respite upon Jackson’s confession 
exonerating Walling, he delayed matters for some two hours, 
when, learning that clemency would not be extended, he 
ordered the execution to proceed. 

Both men met their fate with seeming indifference, the 
stoicism that had attended them since the hour of their arrest 
remaining until the last. From the scaffold they both asserted 
their innocence. Asked if he had anything to say, Jackson 
replied: “Only this; I am not guilty of the crime for which I 
am now supposed to pay the penalty of the law.” 


480 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


To the same question Walling replied: “Nothing to say, 
only you are about to take the life of an innocent man. I call 
upon God to be my witness. ’ ’ 

With this falsehood upon their lips, the two hardened 
wretches shot through the double trap and met death by slow 
strangulation. 

Nothing had ever stirred the people of Cincinnati and the 
country surrounding to compare with the Pearl Bryan tragedy, 
and almost universal satisfaction was manifested when the 
murderers suffered the extreme penalty of the law. All the 
parties were young; Jackson was twenty-eight, Walling 
twenty-one, while their fair victim was twenty-two years of 
age. Whether Jackson designed to murder the girl when he 
induced her to come to Cincinnati will never be known, 
though the brutal manner in which he took her life argues 
that the impulse to kill was strongly developed in him. The 
case of Walling is even more doubtful. He had no object, 
other than friendship for Jackson, to engage in the most 
unnatural crime. It is said that the formation of his skull 
bore a remarkable resemblance to that of the wholesale mur¬ 
derer and monster, H. Ii. Holmes, whose hideous crimes are 
detailed elsewhere in the present volume. 

There seems to have been a strong affinity between these 
two young men, and that it arose from a common lack of all 
moral principle, a fiendish and most unnatural disposition, 
cannot well be doubted. Neither of them ever manifested the 
slightest remorse, and it is not likely that they felt any. Both 
came from normal and respectable parents, and the ordinary 
rules of degeneracy can searcely be applied to them. The 
light regard in which they held human life and the brutal 
manner in which they consummated the terrible crime, argue 
that they were both victims of the homicidal impulse. 


— 



rEARL BRYAN AND HER MURDERERS.—PAGE 475 










CHAPTER XXVII 


THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY 

“Truth is stranger than fiction.” Thus runs the old 
aphorism, to which may well be added the statement that 
crime is often as artificial, as extravagant, as unreasonable, as 
the weirdest tale told by the cheapest and most sensational of 
novel-writers. This may well be chargeable to two causes. 
The novelist copies nature, endeavors to make his narrative 
plausible, probable even, by studying history and following 
precedents. On the other hand, the criminal often copies fic¬ 
tion, taking his cue, his entire plan sometimes, from a sensa¬ 
tional novel. Thus fact and fiction act and react upon each 
other; thus fact is often quite as strange as fiction, the details 
of a crime more gruesome and, from the standpoint of a prac¬ 
tical man, as unreasonable, as incomprehensible, as the wildest 
plot evolved in the mind of a sensational story-writer. 

The Guldensuppe tragedy, enacted in New York in 1897, 
might well have been a drama, written for the boards of a 
third-class theatre, where morbid tastes are catered to and 
probabilities disregarded. Lust, cupidity, revenge—three of 
the strongest motives that lead to the commission of infamous 
crimes—were all present, and strangely blended. All the 
actors in this fearful tragedy belonged to the lower, the vicious 
and reckless walks of life, and it seems altogether probable 
that fiction of the “half-dime-library” variety suggested the 
means employed for perpetrating the revolting crime and dis¬ 
posing of the murdered man’s remains. 

The Guldensuppe case is, however, remarkably like two of 
the most famous murders ever perpetrated in this country, set 
forth at length in the present volume, and, but for the ignor¬ 
ance of the principal actors, might well have been inspired by 

481 


4§2 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


them. As in the Cronin case, a house was rented for the sole 
purpose of committing the crime, and the victim lured there 
to meet his death, while the method adopted for disposing of 
the remains suggested those employed by Dr. Webster half a 
century ago in Boston. 

No elaborately planned murder, the details of which were 
worked out in exact accordance with the prearranged pro¬ 
gramme, was ever more quickly discovered, more completely 
laid bare. 

On the afternoon of Saturday, June 26, 1897, two adven¬ 
turous boys, James McKenna and John McGuire, thirteen and 
fourteen years old respectively, were running the chance of 
arrest by swimming in the East River, near the foot of 
Eleventh street, New York. Suddenly they saw a bit of flot¬ 
sam in the shape of a corded package floating in the river, well 
out from the pier, towards which they at once swam. Bring¬ 
ing it to the pier, they dressed themselves and proceeded to 
open it. They were horrified at discovering what, even to 
their inexperienced eyes, was plainly a mass of human flesh, 
and shouted lustily for the police. An officer appeared, drove 
the boys away, and hastily examined their gruesome “find.” 

This consisted of the upper portion of a human body. It 
had been thrice wrapped; first in a piece of cheese-cloth, then 
in a bright red and gold oil-cloth, lastly in a heavy brown 
paper. From the breast of the trunk quite a large portion of 
the skin had been flayed away. No thought of murder crossed 
the mind of the policeman, who set it down as one of those 
senseless, horrible pranks so often played by medical students. 
He re-wrapped the fearful object and conveyed it to the 
morgue. 

The next day Herbert and Edgar Meyer, the thirteen and 
eight year old boys of Julius Meyer, accompanied their father 
to Ogden’s Woods, on the Harlem River, above the Washing¬ 
ton bridge. While searching for berries the boys came upon 
a neatly-wrapped bundle in the woods, and shouted for their 
father. Removing a brown paper, oil-cloth and cheese-cloth, 
the astonished man discovered the lower portion of a human 
body. Taken to the morgue, it was found to exactly fit the 


THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY 483 


chest already there. The wrappings which had enclosed the 
two portions were identical, they had been found many miles 
apart, no doubt remaining but that an awful crime had been 
committed. 

The police system of New York City is an admirable one. 
In some noted cases, like that of the Nathan murder, it has 
failed to detect the perpetrators of outrageous crimes, but it is 
composed of shrewd and experienced men who seldom fail in 
their work, particularly where tell-tale clues are actually 
thrust upon them. 

The mutilated remains were first critically examined by 
seven of the most famous “medical and surgical experts of the 
metropolis. They determined that the body was that of a 
man between thirty-five and forty years of age, weighing from 
165 to 170 pounds, his probable height being five feet and 
from eight to ten inches. The muscles, which were well 
developed, indicated a large amount of exercise, while the 
absence of callosities on his well-formed hands, showed that 
he had not been engaged in any kind of hard manual labor. 
Death had been sudden, and not the result of illness or drown¬ 
ing. 

The dismemberment had been skilfully done, and seemed 
to indicate some knowledge of anatomy on the part of the 
operator. The lower portion of the body was separated below 
the fifth rib, and carried with it the upper part of the legs. 
Evidences of haste were manifest, but the work had not been 
bunglingly executed. On one of the fingers there was the scar 
of an old surgical operation. 

Great mysteries put the newspapers of the country on their 
mettle. In the professional opinion of the author, reporters 
often do irreparable injury to criminal cases by making prema¬ 
ture disclosures and putting suspected persons upon their 
guard. In this case, however, their work ably seconded that 
of the police department. 

Late on the evening of Monday, June 28th, a reporter for 
the Journal , in a bar-room at 672 Third Avenue, overheard 
two “rubbers” in the Murry Hill Turkish Baths talking of the 
mysterious headless trunk, which had set all New York agog. 


484 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


In conclusion one of them casually remarked: “Willie hasn’t 
been to work to-day. ’ ’ 

“Not since Friday,” the other added. “I wonder what he’s 
up to.” 

This reporter had a nose for news; besides, it occurred to 
him that the strong muscles and white hands now in the 
morgue might well have suited the calling of the two men 
whose idle conversation he had heard. He lost no time in 
reaching the Murry Hill Baths. There he learned that the 
man spoken of as “Willie” was William Guldensuppe, a 
masseur in the baths. He had been absent since the preced¬ 
ing Friday, and the superintendent knew nothing of the cause, 
though a woman had called to say that he had given up his 
situation. 

Guldensuppe had been long employed there, and the 
reporter had no trouble in securing an accurate description of 
his person, since he had worked there in an almost nude con¬ 
dition. This corresponded remarkably well with that of the 
surgeons who had examined the mutilated remains at the 
morgue, and the conjecture became almost a certainty when 
the reporter learned that the missing man, who had once been 
a sailor, had the head and bust of a woman tattooed upon his 
breast, and that a felon on the forefinger of his left hand had 
left a bad scar. 

As a rule reporters are not diffident. About one o’clock on 
the morning of Tuesday this one was ringing the door-bell of a 
flat at No. 439 Ninth avenue, the residence of a German mid¬ 
wife, known as Mrs. Augusta Nack, where the missing Gul¬ 
densuppe had been living for the past eighteen months. At 
length the midwife, who was completely dressed, responded 
to his repeated ringings and admitted him. 

The reporter claimed to be a friend of Guldensuppe who 
had some work for him. The woman talked quite freely. 
William had dressed himself in his best clothes on Friday 
morning, secured fifty dollars from her and gone away, since 
which time she had not seen him. She ridiculed the sug¬ 
gestion that he might be dead and said that she didn’t care if 
he were, since he was too much taken with other women. 


THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY 485 


Mrs. Nack, a large, voluptuous-looking woman of middle 
age, declared that she had detected William in the act of mak¬ 
ing an appointment with a woman friend of hers, since which 
moment her love for him had departed. She claimed to have 
received a note from him after his departure, also a telegram, 
both of which she had destroyed. He had also visited the flat 
during her absence, as was evidenced by a collar he had worn 
away. 

In the meantime, five employes of the bath-room visited 
the morgue and positively identified the remains as those of 
William Guldensuppe, as also did a physician who had, a few 
months before, operated on his finger for a felon, and who 
knew the scar. 

Mrs. Nack was not immediately arrested, though she was at 
once placed under strict police surveillance. In the meantime, 
much of her antecedents and recent history was brought to 
light. 

It was learned that she had long been a grossly immoral 
woman, who seemed to possess a strange attraction for men. 
She had married Herman Nack some years before, but her 
continual amours had caused him to leave her. Although 
unlicensed, she carried on the business of a midwife, and, 
being altogether unscrupulous in her methods, made consider¬ 
able money. 

In 1893 a dapper little barber, known as Martin Thom, but 
whose real name was Torzewski, came to board with her at 
No. 629 Ninth avenue. Two years later Guldensuppe also 
came to board with her. Both men were violently infatuated 
with the false wife, and many quarrels ensued. It was at this 
time that Nack took his departure. After this the stalwart 
Guldensuppe turned the little barber out of the house, and 
removed with Mrs. Nack to No. 439 Ninth avenue. This was 
about the close of 1895. 

But Martin Thorn retained a place in the affections of the 
depraved woman, and visited her at night when the masseur 
was at work. Guldensuppe earned only ten dollars a week, 
but Mrs. Nack supplied him quite liberally with money. She 
also gave Thorn money, usually small sums. Finally the two 



486 MURDER IN ALL AGES 

men met in the fiat, and the fight ensued in which the barber 
was badly beaten by the masseur and forcibly ejected from the 
place. The former swore to have revenge. In the mean¬ 
time, the midwife became violently jealous of Guldensuppe. 
Thus arose the three-fold motive to commit the awful crime— 
revenge, jealousy, and the desire to have the spending of the 
woman’s quite large income. 

In the days that followed the discovery of the remains, the 
police were very active, scores of men being employed on the 
case. The oil-cloth in which the dismembered body had been 
wrapped was identified as “Diamond B, No. 3220,’’ made by 
H. F. Buchanan. Through the wholesale house this oil-cloth 
was traced to hundreds of stores in New York. After a long 
search the detectives found the particular shop where the 
oil-cloth had been sold. It was in Jane street, Astoria, and 
was kept by Max Rigor. Mrs. Rigor remembered that on the 
day when Guldensuppe disappeared she had sold a piece of 
this particular pattern to a stout German woman, who had also 
purchased six yards of white ticking. Mrs. Rigor positively 
identified Mrs. Nack as the purchaser. 

Directly after the call of the reporter, the frightened 
woman had begun preparations for flight, and when the detect¬ 
ives called on Wednesday morning they found the flat in the 
utmost confusion. A search revealed a broken saw, a pistol 
and a stained knife. 

Just at-that time the missing legs of the murdered man 
were discovered floating near the Cobb dock, at the Brooklyn 
Navy Yard. Here, for the third time, small boys were the 
finders. Some lads saw a floating package and called the 
attention of sailors on the Vermont to it. The dismembered 
legs were wrapped in the white duck and oil-cloth that Mrs. 
Nack had purchased in Jane street. The legs exactly fitted 
the trunk, and the identification was complete, although the 
head was never discovered. 

A long examination of the midwife, who was now taken 
into custody, led to no disclosures of value to the police. As 
a climax she was suddenly confronted with the recently 
recovered limbs of her late lover. But the dramatic incident 


THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY 487 


was barren of results, not a tremor crossed the woman’s hard 
face. On July 1st she was arraigned in the Jefferson Market 
Police Court, and remanded to the custody of the police 
in the station. The next day eight sheets of brown paper, 
like that in which the remains had been wrapped, were found 
in her flat. 

The fact of the murder was now clear, and the place where 
it had been committed became the great question. Employes 
of the Murry Hill Bath House remembered that William had 
told them that he and Mrs. Nack contemplated the establish¬ 
ment of a baby farm at Woodside, Long Island. This consti¬ 
tuted a clue. Arriving at Woodside the officers found much of 
their work already done, since all had read the morning 
papers and notes of observation had been diligently compared. 

Some days before the murder, a man named Haftner, who 
had charge of a vacant cottage at Woodside, which is near 
Brooklyn, and who lived near by, rented it to a man and a 
woman who gave the name of Mr. and Mrs. Braun. The 
description given tallied exactly with those of Thorn and Mrs. 
Nack; besides, “Braun” was one of the little barber’s aliases. 

The “Brauns” were seen to twice visit the cottage on Fri¬ 
day, June 25th. Once they alighted from a trolley car, and 
carried a roll of oil-cloth into the unfurnished house. Neigh¬ 
bors saw two men enter the cottage that morning, at different 
times, and only one leave it. On Friday afternoon a man and 
a woman, each carrying a bundle, departed together. The 
following day the “Brauns” twice visited the cottage on Long 
Island. In the morning they came on the trolley car and in 
the afternoon in a surrey, which Mrs. Nack had hired from an 
undertaker. Each time they carried away heavy bundles. 

Entering the cottage, the detectives saw no visible marks 
of blood and nothing to indicate that a crime had been com¬ 
mitted there, beyond the circumstance that the meter showed 
that an enormous quantity of water—40,000 gallons—had been 
used since it was last occupied. This was utilized in carrying 
away the blood resulting from dismembering the remains of 
the murdered man. 

A day or two after the murder Martin Thorn disappeared 


4 88 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


and the police were unable to find him. He was supposed to 
have left the city, and his description was telegraphed to all 
parts of the country and even to foreign ports, where he might 
well be expected to land from a steamship. He had not left 
New York, however, but was in hiding on the East Side, 
securing a room at No. 235 East Twenty-fifth street. 

He was unknown there, and might, very possibly, have 
avoided arrest, but for one thing—he was a murderer. He 
soon became restless, and his room assumed the aspect of a 
prison. He formed some acquaintances in the neighborhood, 
and spent a good deal of his time playing penuchle in saloons. 
After a time he ventured into the neighborhood of his old 
haunts on the West Side. On Monday, July 5th, he called on 
an old friend, John Gotha, a barber like himself, who knew 
something of his relations with Mrs. Nack and Thorn. That 
afternoon he met Gotha at a saloon, and made a confession of 
the fearful crime he had committed. 

He had rented the cottage at Woodside and gone there 
quite early in the day on June 25th, to await the coming of his 
victim, who was to be lured to the place by Mrs. Nack under 
the pretense that she wished him to look at the premises she 
had rented. Thorn went about the matter as if it were an 
affair of every-day occurrence. To avoid staining his cloth¬ 
ing, he removed all garments except his undershirt and socks, 
and awaited the appearance of his victim. 

About eleven o’clock Guldensuppe came with Mrs. Nack. 
She gave him the key that he might enter and survey the 
premises, while she remained outside. When Guldensuppe 
ascended to the upper floor the waiting and revengeful barber 
shot him twice in the head, killing him instantly. This done, 
he announced the circumstance to his accomplice, who left the 
premises after viewing the remains. 

Thorn spent several hours in dismembering the body and 
tying it up in neat packages, employing the oil-cloth, duck and 
wrapping paper that Mrs. Nack had purchased. He also 
removed the tattooed face from the breast. About five o’clock 
Mrs. Nack returned, and they departed for New York, the 
woman carrying the clothes of the murdered man, her com- 


THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY 489 


panion his head, which was encased in a mass of plaster of 
paris. They crossed the river on a ferry-boat, and Thorn 
dropped the package containing the head into the water, where 
it doubtless sank from view. Mrs. Nack took the bundle of 
clothing home to her flat, where she burned it. 

The following day they twice visited the cottage and carried 
away the three remaining bundles. Two of these Thorn 
dropped into the river and conveyed the third in the surrey 
to Ogden’s Woods. 

The police were already watching Thorn, for John Gotha 
had communicated with them, and soon after making the con¬ 
fession he was taken into custody. To the officers he denied 
having made any confession, and told a somewhat lame story 
explaining his relations with Mrs. Nack, at the same time pro¬ 
testing his innocence of the crime. On July 8th the two guilty 
accomplices were confronted by Gotha and six other wit¬ 
nesses, as a result of which they were committed to await the 
action of the Queen’s county grand jury. 

Martin Thorn was brought to trial on November 8, 1897. 
The facts as here briefly set forth were presented by the vari¬ 
ous parties, and, in addition, Mrs. Nack took the stand as one 
of the State’s witnesses. For the most part her story agreed 
with the confession that the prisoner had made to Gotha. She 
claimed, however, that she had been influenced by fear of 
Thorn, and not by any affection that she bore him. Thorn 
hated Guldensuppe bitterly, and was resolved to take his life. 
Wicked as the woman had been, she was doubtless over¬ 
whelmed with remorse; she claimed that a guilty conscience 
had forced her to tell the truth, and that she did it without any 
understanding or hope of clemency. Her testimony, which 
occupied three hours, was the sensation of the trial, and 
seemed to settle the case of her accomplice. 

But fate interfered to respite Martin Thorn; Juror Mangus 
Larsen became ill, and, not speedily recovering, a mis-trial 
resulted. 

Three weeks later Thorn was again brought to the bar of 
Queen’s county, being, as on the previous occasion, defended 
by William F. Howe, the well-known criminal lawyer of New 


490 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


York. The same witnesses were introduced, with the excep¬ 
tion of Mrs. Nack, who did not take the stand. On November 
30th, the last day of the trial, Thorn was sworn and testified 
in his own behalf. He admitted that he had assisted in the 
awful transaction, but claimed that he had only acted as an 
accessory of Mrs. Nack, who had herself shot Guldensuppe. 
According to his story, the woman had ascribed to him the 
part she had herself played in the hideous tragedy. He had 
assisted her to place the body in the bath-tub, and had held it 
while she did the work of dismembering it. 

The jury promptly found the defendant guilty, but sentence 
was deferred until the following Friday, when the penalty of 
death was imposed. After the trial Thorn is said to have 
made the following statement: 

“I am glad it is over and the verdict given. I am con¬ 
victed and am contented. It was I who killed Guldensuppe, 
and I believe every word Mrs. Nack said upon the stand was 
substantially correct. When I was on the stand I lied when 
telling the story as I did, but I lied to clear myself. It is no 
use carrying it any further. I am guilty and convicted. It 
is what I expected, and what I suppose people think I deserve, 
and perhaps I do. ” 

Mrs. Augusta Nack pleaded guilty to the indictment 
against her, and was committed to prison for fifteen years. 
To the candid mind she was as guilty as Thorn, but her sex 
and her confession doubtless worked together to secure 
clemency. 

Martin Torzewski, alias Thorn, was electrocuted at Sing 
Sing on August 1, 1898. During his long imprisonment he 
spent much of his time in reading and conversing with his 
spiritual adviser. He seemed fully prepared for death, and 
was, much of the time, in a state of apparent spiritual exalta¬ 
tion. But this deserted him in the last hour, and he died in a 
condition of the most abject terror. A current of 1,950 volts, 
10 amperes, was employed, and death was practically instan¬ 
taneous. 

While revenge was doubtless the leading motive that led to 
the commission of this crime, the homicidal impulse was no 


THE GULDENSUPPE TRAGEDY 


491 


doubt present. It is shown by the comparatively slight 
provocation and the elaborate details of the plan, which argues 
a sort of fiendish pleasure in the plotters. Besides, the face 
of Mrs. Nack was decidedly and distinctively depraved; 
indeed, it corresponded almost exactly with the ideal criminal 
face presented by Lombroso. That she was vicious and 
depraved her own life abundantly proved, and it seems not 
unlikely that the impulse to kill was present in her heart, 
since, notwithstanding her own statement, and Thorn’s 
admissions of its correctness, it cannot be doubted that she 
was the leading spirit in the dark and murderous undertaking. 


CHAPTER XXVIII 


THE LUETGERT CASE 

To secure personal benefits and escape punishment—these 
are the two-fold considerations present in nearly every instance 
where the murder of a fellow-creature is deliberately planned. 
The “benefits” to be derived may be vague, uncertain, abso¬ 
lute evils when rightly understood, yet they are possessed of 
sufficient potency to suggest a horried crime and “screw to the 
sticking place” the courage of the perpetrator. 

Murders of this kind generally fall into three classes: 
Where an accidental or natural death is suggested; where 
homicide is apparent, with nothing to suggest the real perpe¬ 
trator, and the disappearance of the victim under circum¬ 
stances not calculated to throw great suspicion upon the guilty 
party. 

Probably the last-named is the means most usually 
employed. According to the aphorism of the villain in the 
story-book, “Dead men tell no tales,” yet a dead body often 
speaks louder and more convincingly than a living man, and 
hence the effort to effectually dispose of all evidence of a 
crime, to the end that the public may believe that the missing 
party has departed of his own volition. Disappearances are 
common and the guilty person generally sees to it that appar¬ 
ent reasons for the disappearance are not wanting. 

Such an instance is presented in the famous Luetgert case, 
which sent a thrill of horror through the country, the entire 
world, in 1897. There was nothing peculiarly atrocious in the 
murder itself. Indeed, the means employed in perpetrating 
it were never discovered and are of little consequence. It 
was the unusual, the unprecedented, means employed to 
dispose of the remains that lifted this murder out of the 

492 


ordinary category of fearful crimes and placed it in a class 
by itself. 

Adolph Louis Luetgert had grown weary of his wife, and 
preferred the society of other women. There may have been 
other motives, but this was surely the leading cause that led 
him to take her life. When we consider the vast number of 
married couples that live more or less unhappily together, this 
motive appears altogether too slight to account for the crime. 

In the author’s opinion, it was reinforced by the devilish 
scheme for disposing of the remains that suggested itself, 
exactly how will never be known, to the evil mind and con¬ 
scienceless heart of the murderer. It suited the convenience 
of Luetgert that his wife should cease to live, while the horrid 
method of covering up the proposed crime attracted his 
inventive faculties, fascinated his wicked imagination, over¬ 
powered his judgment, stifled any feeling of humanity that 
may have lingered in his breast—in a word, delivered him into 
the possession of the awful impulse to take human life. 

The risk was great, and the murderer well knew it. In any 
one of a dozen ways which must have suggested themselves 
to his mind, could he have more safely ridded himself of the 
wife who had become irksome to him, and, very possibly, 
stood in the way of a more advantageous marriage. 

That he adopted the course he did argues strongly in favor 
of the theory that it was the sausage vat and caustic that 
induced him to murder his wife, not her obnoxiousness that 
suggested the disintegrating power of steam and potash. 

Be that as it may, this volume contains no darker pages, 
nothing that reflects more severely upon poor human nature, 
than the following account of the infamous Luetgert case. 

Adolph Luetgert was a German by birth, who came quite 
early in life to America, settling in the city of Chicago. He 
followed various occupations, including those of farmer, 
tanner, grocer, and saloon-keeper, and finally settled down to 
the business of manufacturing sausage. Luetgert was a 
powerful man physically, and possessed of considerable mental 
force and decided executive ability. Beginning in a small 
way, his enterprise prospered and he amassed considerable 


494 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


property, owning a large factory, where he carried on a very 
extensive business. 

The years following the panic of 1893 were far from pros¬ 
perous, but the sausage-maker met his obligations and 
appeared to be making money. In 1896, however, he became 
greatly embarrassed, and with the beginning of the next year 
was obliged to shut down his factory, retaining only a few 
men to do the necessary work and guard the premises. Luet- 
gert owed Foreman Brothers, of Chicago, quite a large sum, 
which was secured by a chattel mortgage, and expected that 
foreclosure proceedings would be begun in the month of May. 
In the meantime, he had not been inactive. Together with 
his friend and business adviser, William Charles, he used 
every means to secure capital to further operate and even 
extend his factory. At one time they seemed certain of suc¬ 
cess, and Luetgert expected to become the world’s sausage 
king, but the plan resulted in failure, and the first of May, 
1897, found him possessed of a most unquiet mind and con¬ 
fronted with seemingly unavoidable financial disaster. 

His domestic relations were not pleasant. He had been 
twice married, his first wife having died many years before, 
leaving one son, Arnold by name, a young man at the time of 
the tragedy. For his second wife he married Louisa Bicknese, 
who had formerly been employed as a servant. By her he 
had two sons, Louis, aged twelve, and Elmer, aged five years. 
Notwithstanding his fearful crime, Luetgert seemed decidedly 
attached to his children. 

His large factory was located at Hermitage avenue and 
Diversey street, in the northern section of the city, while his 
residence was near at hand, on Hermitage avenue. For a 
long time Luetgert had slept in his office on the main floor of 
his factory, one corner of which had been partitioned off for a 
sleeping apartment. He was an immoral man, and was often 
visited by women of extremely doubtful character. It was 
known that he did not treat his wife kindly, making, to all 
appearances, his servant girl, Mary Simering by name, the 
virtual mistress of his house. She it was who took care of his 
sleeping-room in the factory. Upon one occasion he was seen 


THE LUETGERT CASE 


495 

to choke his wife and upon another followed her with a 
revolver, threatening to take her life. 

On the afternoon of May 4, 1897, Diedrich Bicknese, a 
brother of Mrs. Luetgert, who did not live in the city, called 
at the house to see his sister. He talked with Mary Simering, 
but learned nothing satisfactory, beyond the fact that she was 
not at home. A visit to another sister elicited no informa¬ 
tion. Returning towards evening, he saw Luetgert and 
demanded the whereabouts of Louise, by which name his 
sister was commonly known. 

The sausage-maker declared that he did not know, that she 
had left the house on the night of Saturday, May 1st, since 
which time he had neither seen nor heard of her. As nearly 
as he could tell, she had about eighty dollars in her possession. 
Asked by his brother-in-law why he had not notified the police, 
Luetgert replied that he had been greatly worried, and, not 
wishing to make a scandal, had given each of two detectives 
five dollars to look for her. That night Diedrich went to 
Kankakee, Ill., where he had an idea she might have gone to 
visit relatives, but found no trace of her. Returning next 
morning, he again saw Luetgert, who had no news of the 
missing woman. 

Bicknese spent the remainder of May 5th searching for his 
sister, calling upon friends to whom he thought she might 
very possibly have gone, but without results; no one had seen 
Louisa Luetgert. That night he went to the Sheffield ave¬ 
nue police station and reported the matter to Captain Schuet- 
tler, the officer in command. 

Captain Schuettler at once summoned Luetgert to the 
station, but he did not respond until sent for the second time. 
The captain knew the sausage-maker quite well, and at once 
began to interrogate him. The latter protested that he knew 
nothing as to the whereabouts of his wife, but thought it likely 
that she had wandered away, intimating that there was some¬ 
thing wrong with her, as she had been acting queerly of late. 

“You made a vigorous appeal to me to find a lost dog for 
you, not long ago,” remarked the officer. “Why did you not 
report the absence of your wife?” 


49 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


To this Luetgert replied that he had expected his wife to 
return and had wished to avoid the disgrace that must attend 
a disclosure of the facts. He departed, and the police began 
dragging the river and the clay-holes in the vicinity, in the 
hope of recovering the body. 

On Friday, May 7th, police officers visited the sausage 
factory and interviewed Frank Bialk, a somewhat stupid old 
German who acted as night watchman. The story told by 
this man was a most remarkable one. It did not directly 
affect Mrs. Luetgert, yet it suggested to the minds of the 
officers a crime almost too horrible to be seriously considered; 
a crime the like of which they had never encountered. Frank 
Bialk’s story, which he afterwards twice repeated on the wit¬ 
ness stand, was substantially as follows: 

Shortly after nine o’clock on the night of May 1st, Luetgert 
gave Bialk a dollar and sent him to a drug store, nearly a mile 
away, to purchase a bottle of celery compound. When the 
watchman returned with the medicine, about half an hour 
later, he entered the engine-room and found that the door 
leading to the main factory had been barricaded, something 
that had never been done before. Going to the elevator, he 
found the gate, always left up at night, closed down. Pres¬ 
ently Luetgert appeared, took the medicine and change, and 
said: “All right, Frank,” after which Bialk went back to the 
engine-room. 

A little after ten o’clock the sausage-maker again sum¬ 
moned the watchman, gave him another dollar, and told 
him to go to the same drug store and bring him a bottle of 
Hunyadi water. The store was closed, which necessitated 
some delay, and it was nearly eleven o’clock when the old man 
returned with his purchase. As before, Luetgert met him at 
the closed elevator gate, and said: “All right, Frank.’’ 

In the basement were three vats supplied with steam, 
which were used for coloring sausage. About a quarter 
before nine Luetgert turned on the steam in the middle vat. 
He remained there until about two o’clock, when he turned off 
the steam and left the basement. Before leaving the place the 
following morning the watchman went to the office, where he 



MARTIN THORN AND MRS. NACK ON THE FERRYBOAT. — RAGE 4S9. 


































































































































































THE LUETGERT CASE 


497 


found his employer fully dressed, and asked if he should let 
the fires go out. Luetgert told him to bank the fires at fifty 
pounds of steam pressure. 

When Bialk reported for duty at six o’clock Sunday night, 
he noticed that water was running into the middle vat, through 
a hose that had evidently been attached for that purpose. He 
noticed upon the floor in front of the vat a sticky, glue-like 
substance, in which were what appeared to be flakes of bone. 
Standing near the vat was a chair that belonged in the office, 
and which had not been there when he last entered the place 
on the preceding evening. He shut off the water and went to 
the engine-room, where he found that the fire under the 
boiler was extinguished, the ashes having been raked out. 
Before daylight on Monday morning, acting under the orders 
of his employer, he started the fire under the boiler. It may 
be mentioned that, while the factory was shut down, a certain 
amount of steam was still required to run the elevator and for 
other purposes. 

This report of the officers produced a profound impression 
upon the experienced Captain Schuettler, who instantly 
formed the opinion that an awful and most revolting crime 
had been committed in that dark basement with its running 
water and slimy floor. He sent for his superior officer, 
Inspector Schaack, and a search of the sausage factory 
was at once decided upon. This was made on Saturday, 
May 15th, and resulted in most important and horrible 
discoveries. 

On the afternoon of that day, Police Inspector Schaack, 
Captain Schuettler, and three officers visited the factory, in 
the absence of the proprietor. They found the middle vat 
over two-thirds full of a brownish liquid. Pulling out a plug, 
they proceeded to drain the vat, having first arranged gunny- 
sacks to act as strainers, that all substantial matter might be 
caught and secured. In this manner they recovered many 
pieces of bone. In the meantime they filled two bottles with 
the gruesome, tell-tale fluid. 

In scraping out the vat, Officer Dean recovered several 
pieces of bone, and, the most important event of the day, 


49 8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


found two gold rings. One of these was a small guard, or 
friendship ring, quite badly tarnished. The other was a heavy 
ring, clean and bright. It was a plain affair, with the letters 
“L. L. ” engraved in script on the inside. These rings were 
speedily and quite positively identified by several persons as 
having belonged to the missing woman, who had habitually 
worn them. 

From Frank Odorowsky, known about the factory as 
‘‘Smokehouse Frank,” from the duties he performed there, 
the vigilant police gained further information which made 
clear the diabolical scheme that the uxoricide had carried into 
execution. That a connected narrative may be presented, it 
should be noted here that it was subsequently discovered 
that, on March n, 1897, Luetgert had gone in person to the 
wholesale drug-house of Lord, Owen & Co., and purchased 
a large quantity of crude potash. This came in metal 
drums containing 750 pounds. The sausage-maker bought 
half a drum, and ordered it to be delivered at his factory. 
He also purchased fifty pounds of arsenic. What use he 
designed to make of this is not known, and the poison was 
never found. 

The potash was promptly delivered in a barrel, and stood 
for a long time in the shipping-room. On April 24th Luetgert 
ordered Odorowsky to remove this barrel to the basement. 
He then told the man to break the potash, which he referred 
to as “the stuff,” into small fragments, at the same time 
cautioning him to cover his hands, as it was “strong stuff” and 
would burn him like fire. Frank obeyed, and, assisted by 
another Pole, named Levandowsky, beat the potash into small 
pieces with a hatchet and a hammer, burning his hands and 
face quite badly in the operation. Then he placed it in three 
barrels near the vats, as directed by his employer. Later in 
the day he assisted Luetgert to place the “strong stuff” in the 
middle vat. That evening steam was turned on and the 
potash completely dissolved. 

On Monday morning, May 3d, Odorowsky noticed slime on 
the floor in front of the vats,and manifested decided surprise. 
Luetgert said to him: “Don’t say a word, Frank; don’t say 


THE LUETGERT CASE 


499 


anything about it, and I’ll see that you have a good job as 
long as you live.” 

With this admonition and promise, Luetgert set the man to 
work cleaning up the place. The floor was arranged to drain 
directly into the sewer, and “Smokehouse Frank” disposed of 
all the residue he could in that way. The thick substance 
that remained he placed in a barrel, and, under the direction 
of his employer, dumped it on the railroad track near the fac¬ 
tory, scattering it around. 

Standing in the vat-room were three short doors and some 
gunny-sacks, the latter wet and slimy. It was the theory of 
the prosecution that these had been employed to tightly cover 
the middle vat, to the end that the heat might be greatly 
increased, thus causing the body of the murdered woman to 
more speedily disintegrate. 

The floor cleaned, Luetgert directed the man to remove 
the ashes from under the boiler and strew them in the street. 
Where these ashes were dumped the police found what was 
afterwards positively identified as pieces of corset steel and 
fragments of human bones. The theory of the State was that 
the murderer had burned the clothing and larger bones of his 
wife, which explained his anxiety to dispose of the tell-tale 
ashes. Mrs. Luetgert wore false teeth, and a portion of an 
artificial tooth was found in the middle vat. 

Why did Adolph Luetgert take all these precautions and 
yet permit the greatly diluted but still incriminating liquid, 
containing fragments of bone and his wife’s finger-rings, to 
remain in that terrible “middle vat”? This circumstance was 
urged in his favor, and led many to doubt his guilt, yet the 
explanation is simple. He considered himself secure at first, 
and never thought of it afterwards. In the professional 
experience of the author, a criminal usually overlooks some 
point that leads to his conviction. But for the finding and 
identification of the two rings it is not likely that Luetgert 
would ever have been found guilty. 

Upon this, and other incriminating evidence, Adolph 
Luetgert was arrested at his residence. Mary Simering had 
already been taken into custody, and he had secured the 


500 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


attendance of Mrs. Agathia Tosch, an old and quite intimate 
friend, who was reputed to be wealthy. He was given a pre¬ 
liminary hearing and remanded to jail, soon after which an 
indictment was found against him. 

Adolph L. Luetgert was arraigned for trial on Monday, 
August 23, 1897, before Judge Richard Tuthill. He was 
defended by Ex-Judge William A. Vincent and Albert Phalen, 
while the prosecution was conducted by State’s Attorney 
Charles Deneen, assisted by Mr. McEwen. On August 28th a 
jury was secured. On that day a secret experiment was con¬ 
ducted at the Luetgert factory. The corpse of a man was 
treated to potash in the now famous “middle vat,” the claim 
of the defense being that it was not disintegrated under the 
same conditions that the body of Mrs. Luetgert was claimed to 
have been destroyed. From this the defendant took great 
courage, loudly boasting that he was certain of acquittal. It 
was shown on the trial that the water used was not kept at 
boiling point, no effort having been made to confine the steam 
by means of the doors and gunny-sacks, as was doubtless done 
by Luetgert. 

The task set for the state’s attorney was a most difficult 
one. The body of the victim had been practically consumed, 
and yet it was absolutely necessary to prove, not only that 
she was dead, but that she had died at the hands of the pris¬ 
oner, as charged in the indictment. To establish this by 
purely circumstantial evidence seemed altogether out of 
the question, and few of the thousands who had carefully 
studied the case believed that a conviction would ever be 
secured. 

The formal trial began on August 30th, Diedrich Bicknese 
being the first witness. He was followed by Mrs. Luetgert’s 
eldest son, Louis. On the preliminary examination he had 
stated that he had heard his father go out about ten o’clock on 
the night of May 1st, and did not afterwards see or hear his 
mother. His evidence proved a disappointment, and few were 
grieved that it was, since it seemed a hard thing to place a boy 
of twelve years on the stand to testify against his father, who 
was on trial for his life. On the trial he claimed that he had 


THE LUETGERT CASE 


501 

heard his mother after his father had left the house, he being 
at the time in bed. 

Mrs. Agathia Tosch, who, with her husband, kept a saloon 
near the factory, testified on the second day, and her story 
told heavily against the defendant. On the day after the 
murder Luetgert had come to her saloon looking tired, sick 
and greatly worried. He did not call again for nearly two 
weeks, by which time Mrs. Tosch had heard of his wife’s 
disappearance and also that the police had visited the factory. 
She asked him where his wife was. He became greatly 
excited, and replied: “I don’t know. I am as innocent as the 
southern skies.” 

This statement was remarkable, because no charge had 
been made against him. Before the murder, Luetgert had 
said to the witness, speaking of his wife: “I could take her 
and crush her.” Upon another occasion, when he had sent 
for a doctor to attend his wife, who was sick, he said to Mrs. 
Tosch: “If I had waited a little longer, the dead, rotten beast 
would have croaked. ’ ’ 

He afterwards told witness that he could not live with his 
wife, and upon one occasion said: “If it were not for Mary 
Simering I would not stay at home.” 

About four o’clock on Sunday, May 2d, a heavy smoke was 
seen issuing from the factory chimney. In the talk he had 
with Mrs. Tosch he told her that his engineer was talking too 
much about the smoke, and asked her to see him and warn 
him to desist. 

After the officers first visited the factory and talked with 
Frank Bialk, Luetgert sent for him. He told the police, who 
instructed him to send word that he was sick. Luetgert came 
promptly to see him, and found the old man in bed. Officer 
Antone Klinger, who was concealed beneath the bed, swore 
that Luetgert’s mission was to learn whether the officers had 
found anything incriminating in the factory, to which Bialk 
replied that they had not. 

Several German women, who had known Mrs. Luetgert 
long and intimately, identified the rings as having be¬ 
longed to her, while the chemist employed by Luetgert 


5° 2 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


testified that potash was never used in the manufacture of 
sausage. 

Probably the witness whom Luetgert most feared to see 
take the stand was Mrs. Christine Feldt. She was a German 
woman, reputed to be wealthy, and an old and confidential 
friend of the defendant. The close relations that existed 
between them could not fail to give great force to any state¬ 
ment the woman might make. Intimations, very possibly 
unjust to Mrs. Feldt, were made that Luetgert designed to 
marry her after having disposed of his wife. 

No wonder that the strong, pompous, self-sufficient 
sausage-maker paled when his “Darling Christine” was sworn 
and faced the twelve men who possessed the power to legally 
take away his life. After the commission of the crime he had 
intrusted $4,000 to her keeping, and from the jail had written 
a number of letters in which love was rather artisticalty 
blended with business. Money was the real point underlying 
them all, but they abounded in protestations of affection and 
terms of endearment. All of this money Mrs. Feldt returned 
to the defendant. 

A long and fierce struggle must have been waged in this 
woman’s breast before she consented to give testimony against 
her old-time friend. Luetgert did not believe that she would 
take this step, and his opinion was shared by many who knew 
her. But a sense of duty mastered her repugnance, and she 
seated herself in the witness-chair. 

The hardened criminal actually blushed when his letters 
were produced in court and translated as read to the jury. 
Mrs. Feldt testified that the defendant had told her that he 
could not live with his wife, and had spoken harshly of her. 
“If you forsake me, Christine,” he had said, “I will take my 
own life; I do not care to live. ’ ’ 

One of the sensations of the long trial developed the follow¬ 
ing day, when Mrs. Feldt was recalled and identified a long 
blood-stained knife as one that Luetgert had intrusted to her 
care after the awful night of May 1st. He had made no 
specific statement, but the inference was plain that this was 
the weapon with which he had taken his wife’s life. To have 


THE LUETGERT CASE 


5 °3 


kept such an accusing witness seems the height of folly, but 
it must be remembered that murderers do the most foolhardy 
things. Besides, Mrs. Feldt was the one woman on earth 
whom he implicitly trusted, and he doubtless thought to win 
her further favor by putting himself, in a manner, within her 
power, not believing it possible that she would turn against 
him. William Charles, the friend who stood by Luetgert to 
the last, afterwards claimed that he had given the knife to 
Mrs. Feldt, which did not greatly change the bearing of the 
incident, if true, as it undoubtedly was not. 

Emma Schiemicke, a young German girl, testified that on 
the night of May ist she was near the factory, accompanied by 
her sister. It was between ten and eleven o’clock, when she 
saw the defendant, accompanied by his wife, going towards an 
alley that led to the factory. This was strong connecting 
testimony, and was vigorously combated by the defense. Her 
testimony was greatly weakened under cross-examination, and 
was impeached by many witnesses, some of whom were, in 
turn, shown to have spoken falsely. Emma was a somewhat 
weak-minded person, and her testimony, supported at one time 
by that of her sister, was pretty well discredited. 

Lack of space forbids the author from going at length into a 
discussion of the expert” testimony, which formed one of the 
leading features of this most extraordinary trial. The residue 
from the vat was shown to be made up of animal matter that 
had been treated with potash, though no claim was made that 
the former could be identified as having come from a human 
being. 

Many fragments of bone taken from the vat and from the 
street where the ashes had been thrown were introduced in 
evidence. Several of these were identified by leading experts 
as being fragments of human bones. These were: part of a 
human third rib; part of a humerus, or great bone of the arm; 
a bone from the palm of the human hand; a bone from the 
fourth toe of human right foot; fragments of a human 
temporal bone; sesamoid bone from human foot; one of the 
bones of a human ear. 

The sesamoid bone and the one from the ear were most 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


5°4 

positively identified, and for many days the word “sesamoid” 
was freely used by hundreds of thousands of people who had 
never heard the term a month before. It was essential to the 
State's case to prove that the body of Mrs. Luetgert had been 
reduced to slime and fragments in that horrid “middle vat, ” 
and no efforts were spared to convince the jury that the bones 
were human. 

Other evidence, not already referred to, was introduced. 
“Smokehouse Frank” told how he had seen Luetgert kissing 
and embracing Mary Simering in the factory. Not long after 
the arrest of the defendant the contents of his factory were 
sold at auction, and a West Side druggist swore that he had 
bought at the sale a considerable quantity of the water for 
which Luetgert had sent Frank Bialk on the night of May ist 
that he might get him out of the way. This evidence showed 
almost conclusively that the sending away of the watchman 
upon such an errand had been a mere subterfuge to secure 
secrecy for the commission of an awful crime. 

To destroy the meshes of this incriminating web of circum¬ 
stantial evidence, the defense labored hard, introducing many 
witnesses. They showed the results of an experiment made 
upon a corpse in the middle vat, but, as already suggested, 
the illustration lacked force, since the vat had been uncovered 
and the liquid was not kept at the boiling point. Besides, the 
resulting liquid was very similar to that found by the officers. 

A large number of chemical and bone experts were intro¬ 
duced. For the most part the latter contented themselves by 
claiming that the bones introduced by the State might have 
come from any one of several lower animals. Some of these 
experts fared rather badly under cross-examination and, in 
general, their testimony was not very satisfactory. In the 
encounter of experts the State undoubtedly made the better 
showing. 

Adolph Luetgert was not without friends, and soon after 
his arrest the missing Mrs. Liietgert began to appear in many 
places. She was seen in New York by a man who had known 
her well years before. It was confidently announced that he 
was to testify on the trial, but he was not produced. Several 


THE LUETGERT CASE 


505 


witnesses from Kenosha, Wis., testified to having seen her in 
that city two or three days after her disappearance, and wit¬ 
nesses who had seen her at other points, were introduced. 
From a score of places came reports that the missing woman 
had been seen. The identifications were generally vague and 
uncertain, while the testimony was sometimes conflicting, and 
it did not make a favorable impression upon the jury. In the 
meantime, Inspector Schaack had offered a reward of $20,000 
for the production of the woman. 

This card, which the defense so largely relied upon, proved 
decidedly weak when played in the game. The thing was 
overdone. Too many Mrs. Luetgerts had been seen in too 
many places, and the jury were, apparently, not favorably 
impressed. 

During the trial Luetgert bore himself rather well, assum¬ 
ing an indifference and contempt that was well simulated. He 
laughed and joked as if his only interest in the case was that 
of a light-hearted spectator. That he was possessed of an iron 
nerve cannot be questioned. He was extremely anxious to 
testify in his own behalf, and nothing but the determined 
opposition of Judge Vincent prevented him from doing so. 
Over this point Luetgert’s attorneys came into open conflict, 
and at one time a rupture seemed imminent, since they had 
frequently disagreed before. 

At length it was decided that the defendant should not 
testify, so far as possible his place being taken by his friend 
and adviser, William Charles. This man swore very hard, too 
hard, doubtless, in Luetgert’s behalf, and through him was 
disclosed the real answer of the defense to the awful dis¬ 
closures of the “middle vat.” 

Briefly, this was his story: Some hope still remained of 
getting capital into the business, and it appeared desirable to 
clean up the factory. To accomplish this it was decided to 
make a quantity of genuine old-fashioned soft-soap. Accord¬ 
ingly, the potash was bought and four hundred pounds of 
grease and bones purchased. The delivery of the latter was 
sworn to by a witness produced by the defense. Charles had 
assisted Luetgert to dump the grease into the vat. The 


5°6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


attempt had proven a failure, owing to Luetgert’s inexperi¬ 
ence as a soap-boiler. 

This effort to wash away the terrible combination of facts 
that had been accumulated against the defendant proved a 
failure. The pretended delivery of grease was discredited by 
the testimony of the men working about the factory, none of 
whom had seen or heard of grease or tallow having been 
brought there. It was also shown that the factory was 
already in good condition and did not require scrubbing. 

But the strongest evidence against this peculiar defense 
was furnished by the defendant’s own witnesses. The 
material said to have been used by Luetgert in this experiment 
cost nearly forty dollars, whereas a barrel of soft-soap, an 
ample supply to scrub the building, could have been purchased 
for about one dollar. No argument is needed to show the 
utter absurdity of this defense. What could be more ridic¬ 
ulous than to suggest that a man, almost in a state of frenzy 
from past business reverses and impending foreclosure and 
total ruin, would spend an entire night and quite a large sum 
of money attempting to make soap enough to clean a dozen 
factories, and that when his own was in good condition? 

Doubtless Luetgert’s lawyers realized this, but it was 
absolutely necessary to make some explanation of the defend¬ 
ant’s long vigil beside the “middle vat,” to account for the 
bad-smelling, brownish liquid and the presence of bones. The 
explanation was singularly unfortunate, and seems to have 
been the one thing needed to convince the world, if not the 
jury, that Adolph Luetgert, having murdered his wife, deliber¬ 
ately disposed of her remains by boiling them in a strong 
solution of potash. 

An effort was made to discredit the identification of the 
rings, but this was labored and weak, producing small effect. 
The policy of the defense evidently was to impress the jury 
that the case had not been established beyond a reasonable 
doubt. To support the theory that Mrs. Luetgert was alive 
and wandering about the country, they attempted to prove 
that she was not in a normal mental condition. The court 
limited efforts of this kind to one week next preceding her 


THE LUETGERT CASE 


5°7 


disappearance, and, thus circumscribed, they were not able to 
make much of a showing*. 

After discussing the evidence for three days and nights the 
jury were finally discharged by the court as unable to agree. 
It is understood that the jury stood nine for conviction and 
three for acquittal. It was decided that the defendant should 
be given a new trial at the earliest possible moment. 

Adolph L. Luetgert, having failed to secure admission to 
bail, was again arraigned for trial before Judge Joseph E. 
Gary, November 29, 1897. Before that time, Luetgert had 
quarreled with his attorneys, and new ones had been secured 
in the persons of Lawrence Harmon, John E. Kehoe, and Max 
J. Riese. On December 13th a jury was secured and the trial 
formally begun. On December 16th the judge disqualified 
one of the jurors for having, before being sworn, expressed 
the opinion that the defendant ought to be hung. His place 
was promptly filled and the trial begun anew. 

During the second trial it developed that an attempt had 
been made to bribe the jury on the former trial, also that 
promissory notes given Judge Vincent by Luetgert to secure 
his fees had turned out to be forgeries. 

On December 27th the stenographers employed by the 
defense refused to do any further work because they had no 
assurance of receiving payment. This led to much delay, and 
greatly prolonged the trial, the prisoner’s attorneys insisting 
on taking down the testimony in long-hand. 

On January 21, 1898, Luetgert took the stand and testified 
at considerable length, telling the story of his life with great 
particularity. He denied his guilt, and frequently shed tears. 
As to the occurrences of May 1, 1897, he told substantially the 
story that Charles had set up on the first trial. He had been 
making soft-soap. Upon cross-examination his memory 
proved very defective, but he admitted that he had never 
made soft-soap before, and had no idea as to its cost, had never 
used soft-soap for cleaning his factory, and had, in his grocery, 
at the factory, plenty of soap and scouring material. 

On February 9, 1898, the jury returned a verdict of guilty 
of murder, and fixed the penalty at imprisonment for life. 


5°8 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Such a verdict shows that something of a doubt must have 
lingered in the minds of some of the twelve men, for if ever a 
crime merited the extreme penalty, that crime was committed 
by Adolph Luetgert. 

The prisoner was a large, powerful and not ill-looking 
man, though his eyes were abnormally small. For the most 
part he maintained his wonderful self-possession during both 
of his long trials. In both instances he claimed to be entirely 
confident of acquittal, and on his last trial had made an 
engagement to attend a fancy ball, to which he had been 
invited, a pleasure which he was forced to forego. 

Luetgert must have long meditated this crime, having pur¬ 
chased the potash nearly two months before he carried the 
plan into execution. The annals of crime contain few 
instances where preparations for a murder were made so long 
in advance, and the depravity of the wretch’s heart may fairly 
be deduced from the circumstance. 

Adolph L. Luetgert was an intensely egotistical man, who 
assumed a tone of superiority over all with whom he came in 
contact. The novelty of the plan appealed strongly to his 
vanity as its originator, and he doubtless thought that his 
superior intellect would prevent even suspicion falling upon 
him. In this peculiar vanity, which never deserted him dur¬ 
ing all his trials and perplexities, something of the habitual 
criminal may be seen. 

Given such an awful crime as the one described, Adolph 
Luetgert was an ideal man to develop its details and carry 
them into execution. 


CHAPTER XXIX 
INFANTICIDE 

Infanticide has been practiced from the most remote ages. 
If we are to believe some authors, it is a crime peculiarly fos¬ 
tered and encouraged by modern civilization; or rather by 
those vices, which, so far in the intellectual development of 
the world, have always attended mental advancement. That 
this has something of foundation in truth, we shall see later, 
but that civilization tends to increase infanticide in the aggre¬ 
gate is very far from being true. With the ancient civiliza¬ 
tions it was differently regarded, and infant life was commonly 
held as of small value; but those conditions of society lacked 
the softening and elevating influences of Christianity, which 
have greatly changed the views of the moderns in many 
important particulars. 

Infanticide is peculiarly the crime of the savage state. 
This is due to two principal causes: First, savages possess but 
a very limited feeling of compassion, and, second, their war¬ 
like and nomadic habits are decidedly unfavorable to infant 
life. Savage parents usually decide for themselves whether 
they care to raise to maturity the child for whose existence 
they are responsible, and if they do not, they either expose or 
put it to death in any manner that suggests itself. Brutal as 
this proceeding appears to civilized and enlightened men, it is 
more easily excused than is infanticide where gross sensuality 
is the moving cause. With the dawn of civilization this prac¬ 
tice usually becomes rare; but the intermediate simple state 
of life passed, it increases in frequency. It does not, how¬ 
ever, keep pace in its growth with the immorality of a people, 
but seems rather to depend upon how illegitimate children are 
regarded in a community, and what amount of condemnation 

509 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


5io 

the public attaches to the erring mother. Following this 
rule, the destruction of infant life is large where immorality 
generally prevails and is commonly condemned. In civilized 
countries the mother of an illegitimate child will usually 
bear privations rather than destroy it, but is unable to con¬ 
front the finger of shame, which very frequently proves 
stronger than the natural love she bears her offspring. In 
Spain, where female frailty is treated with the utmost leniency 
and a “misstep” excites no special comment, infanticide is 
almost unknown. Writing a little over a century ago, Henry 
Home, Lord Karnes, says: 

“In Wales, even at present, and in the Highlands of Scot¬ 
land, it is scarce a disgrace for a young woman to have a 
bastard. In the country last mentioned, the first instance 
known of a bastard child being destroyed by its mother 
through shame is a late one.” 

Many savage and semi-civilized peoples have regarded 
their infant children as the most acceptable sacrifices that they 
could offer to the gods, and this notion has been directly 
responsible for the destruction of a vast amount of infant 
human life. This notion is not altogether a thing of the past, 
and this form of sacrifice is still offered up in many parts of 
the world. 

To show what wonderful advancement has been made in 
public sentiment touching this matter since the days of the 
ancient civilizations, the case of the Greeks may be instanced. 
With them infanticide was very generally practiced, and few 
restrictions were attached to it. Indeed, it was enjoined 
under certain conditions, on the theory of securing the greatest 
happiness to the greatest possible number. As most readers 
are aware, the great philosopher, Plato, devised an ideal 
republic, for which he provided laws, calculated, in his own 
opinion and that of his intellectual contemporaries, to secure 
the welfare of the people. In this legislation he provided for 
infanticide, as also did Aristotle, in a somewhat similar scheme 
for self-government of a people. This was theoretical, but 
Solon and Lycurgus provided actual laws making to the same 
end. In this they anticipated the theories of Malthus, and 


1 


INFANTICIDE 


5ii 

legislated for the restriction of population. Indeed, the 
satirical elaboration of the Malthusian theory, quoted in the 
second chapter of this volume, might well have been drawn 
from the serious arguments and actual practices of the Greeks. 
They regarded the ideal condition of mankind as free from 
helpless and unproductive members of society, and therefore 
decided that the painless destruction of infants whose parents 
were unable to adequately provide for and educate, was, on 
the whole, a benefit to the State. This was especially urged 
in the case of those infants who were deformed or afflicted 
with diseases that would make their mature years a burden to 
themselves and their friends. 

The Greeks were extremely sensual, and their women, for 
the most part, of a low condition, intellectually and socially, 
which led to the general practice of what the greatest philos¬ 
ophers excused and commended. Besides, mothers have a 
much greater natural affection for their infant children than 
have fathers, and the low condition of the Greek women pre¬ 
vented their exercising a healthful influence over their hus¬ 
bands in this regard. But infanticide was not universally 
practiced, even in immoral Greece. In Thebes this offense is 
said to have been severely punished, death, under some cir¬ 
cumstances, being the penalty. 

Thanks to their peculiar religion and their almost universal 
desire to increase the population, after one of the earliest of 
the divine commands, the Jews strictly prohibited infanticide. 
The great historian, Tacitus, notices in terms of eulogy that 
the ancient Germans, though a rude people, did not allow 
infanticide. 

The theories of the Romans differed greatly from those of 
the Greeks on this subject. While the latter wished to restrict 
population, the former sought to extend it, and the destruction 
of infant life was never common with the Romans until society 
had become corrupted and debased during the sensual days of 
the Empire. This appears remarkable at the first glance, 
since originally the Roman father had absolute power to com¬ 
mit infanticide at pleasure. But an ancient law, said to have 
originated with Romulus, restricted the rights of parents in 


512 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


this regard, and prohibited the father from slaying any well- 
formed child until it had attained the age of three years. 
This was wisdom that suggests the famous judgment of Solo¬ 
mon in deciding which of two women was the mother of a 
child. It will be remembered that he decreed that the infant 
should be cut in half, at which the real mother recoiled in 
horror, thus giving him the basis for a correct judgment. In 
like manner, the Roman father was expected to have devel¬ 
oped enough love for his child by the time it was three years 
old to spare its life. To lawfully destroy crippled or deformed 
children, the Roman father had to procure the consent of 
their five nearest relatives. 

Under the Empire, the laws of the Romans strongly 
though indirectly discouraged this practice. This was done 
by granting special privileges to the fathers of large families 
of children, and also by exempting poor parents from the 
burdens of taxation. To a certain extent, also, provision was 
made for the security and care of infants that had been 
exposed by their parents. Notwithstanding all this, both 
Pagan and Christian writers agree in declaring that infanticide 
was a great evil during the Empire. A very broad distinction 
was popularly drawn between this crime and the exposing of 
infants. By exposing is meant leaving them in the streets, or 
elsewhere, to live or die, as might depend upon chance or the 
humanity of their discoverers. The exposure of infants was 
condemned by the Romans, but was not punished as an 
offense against the State. Certain it is that abandonment of 
infants was practiced on a most gigantic scale, and was 
generally regarded as a very venial offense. That much 
infant life was destroyed through this practice cannot be 
doubted, but probably the great majority of them were saved 
from death. They were brought usually to a famous column 
near the Valabrum, where they were carried away and edu¬ 
cated as slaves, though many were diverted to purposes of 
prostitution. 

On the whole, infanticide was condemned by the Roman 
people as morally wrong, but the laxness with which the laws 
were enforced, coupled with the low moral tone of the 


INFANTICIDE 


5i3 


populace, permitted it to flourish. It was not until the con¬ 
version of Rome to Christianity that any radical methods were 
taken to check this enormous vice. To the Christian religion 
must be ascribed the high distinction of having combated and 
reduced to a minimum infanticide and the exposure of infants. 
Not only are the fundamental principles of Christianity 
opposed to such practices, but the early Fathers of the Church, 
with one accord, declaimed eloquently against them. In the 
year of his conversion, Constantine issued a decree, at first 
applicable only to Italy, but afterwards extended to Africa, 
providing that the children of parents who were unable to sup¬ 
port them should be maintained at the expense of the State. 

In A. D. 329 it was provided that children that had been 
sold might be redeemed upon repayment by the father; two 
years later it was provided that foundlings became the abso¬ 
lute property of their preserver, and could not be released by 
the father. This last provision can hardly be regarded with 
favor, though doubtless meant for the public good, since it 
doomed the unfortunate child to a condition of perpetual 
servitude. Indeed, it does not compare favorably with some 
of the Pagan laws, which provided that the father, upon pay¬ 
ment of all charges for expenses, might always reclaim the 
child he had abandoned. Further than that, the Emperor 
Trajan had decreed that under no circumstances could an 
exposed child be reduced to a condition of slavery. This law 
of Constantine continued in force until 529, when Justinian 
decreed that the person who found an exposed child could not 
deprive it of its natural liberty, and that, by exposing it, the 
father lost all legitimate authority over it. This law was 
limited to the Eastern Empire, and in the West, to a large 
extent at least, the servitude of abandoned infants extended 
for several hundred years, and was only discontinued when 
slavery was exterminated from Europe. 

The civil wars into which the Empire was plunged under 
Constantine reduced the nation to sad extremities, and almost 
necessitated the revival of the old law providing that in case 
of absolute destitution children might be sold as slaves, which 
practice had never been altogether abandoned. The Fathers 


5i4 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


of the Church denounced this practice, but no Christian 
Emperor interfered to prevent it. 

As to the punishment for infanticide meted out by the 
Pagans of Rome, there has been much dispute, but the better 
authority is that it was regarded as murder, though punished 
by banishment, instead of death. To check infanticide in 
Africa, where vast numbers of infants were sacrificed to 
Saturn, Constantine made the murder of a child by its father 
the same offense as parricide. In A. D. 374, Valentinian 
made all forms of infanticide a capital offense, and likewise 
punished the exposure of infants. In the seventh century, 
the Spanish Visigoths severely denounced both infanticide 
and abortion, punishing them with death or blindness. 

The early Christians did much to check this horrid vice. 
Always charitable, they devoted a considerable share of 
their alms to the care and education of abandoned infants, 
large numbers of which class were reared as Christians, but it 
was several centuries before Christian foundling hospitals 
were established. The first one known to have existed was at 
Milan, in the eighth century, though it is said that there was 
one at Treves as early as the sixth century. In the ninth cen¬ 
tury the Council of Rouen invited the mothers of children, 
secretly born, to leave them at the door of the church, with 
the promise that they should be provided for until reclaimed. 
It appears that such children were brought up as slaves, or 
serfs, and became subject to the church. 

The institution of slavery appears to have been one of the 
principal supporters of the custom of exposure of children, and 
with its decline the barbarity became rare. The Christian 
doctrine of the intrinsic value of an immortal soul is prin¬ 
cipally responsible for the decline of infanticide during the 
middle ages. During the early centuries of the Christian 
Church, one of its crowning glories is the work it accom¬ 
plished in the preservation of infant life and the consequent 
elevation of the sentiment of the world touching the sanctity 
of human life in general. 

The crime known as abortion is so nearly associated with 
that of infanticide that a discussion of the latter without some 


INFANTICIDE 


5i5 


reference to the former is hardly possible. With the Pagans, 
this was looked upon as a very slight offense, and was, indeed, 
openly advocated in both Greece and Rome. Aristotle highly 
commended it, and insisted that it should be enforced by law 
when the population had passed a certain limit. Among the 
Pagans it was condemned by no law for many centuries. 
Both Christian and Pagan authorities unite in declaring that 
the practice was extremely common, and seldom resulted in 
unfavorable comment. A woman who never resorted to it 
appears to have been rare, and is spoken of by these writers in 
terms of highest praise. Indeed, during many centuries, the 
perpetration of this crime was a regular profession, both in 
Greece and Rome. At the same time, the really great think¬ 
ers and writers of Pagan times regarded abortion as unques¬ 
tionably criminal and inexcusable on moral grounds. Among 
these may be mentioned Seneca, Ovid, Plutarch and Juvenal. 
“It was probably regarded,” says Lecky, “by the average 
Romans of the later days of Paganism much as Englishmen in 
the last century regarded convivial excesses, as certainly 
wrong, but so venial as scarcely to deserve censure.” 

From the first, the Christians took radically different 
ground. Without exception they constantly denounced the 
practice as most inhuman, and unhesitatingly classed it as 
murder. By the Council of Ancyra, the sacrament was with¬ 
held from the guilty mother, even to the hour of her death, 
but this penalty was subsequently reduced to seven years’ 
penitence. The enormity of this crime in the eyes of the 
early Christians was largely due to the doctrine that unbap¬ 
tized children were condemned to eternal death. 

What has been said of Greece and Rome is true of most of 
the peoples of antiquity, infant life being almost universally 
held at a very low value by the ancients. This is particularly 
true of India and China, where the practice still prevails to an 
alarming extent. All are familiar with the fearful practice of 
the Hindoo mothers in disposing of their infants, particularly 
the females, by throwing them into the Ganges to drown or be 
devoured by crocodiles. The amount of life sacrificed in 
China can hardly be approximated, but it is known to be 


5 1 6 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


enormous. In that country infanticide is not regarded as 
morally wrong. Among the Norsemen the life of a child 
hung in the balance until the father, after examining it critic¬ 
ally, handed it to the nurse to be reared. If it appeared weak, 
or ill-favored, particularly if a daughter, it was exposed to die 
of the weather or be devoured by wild beasts. 

Even in our own times, infanticide prevails to an alarming 
extent among many peoples. Throughout the whole of the 
South Sea Islands child-murder is systematically and exten¬ 
sively practiced. Among the Fijians it was reduced to an 
absolute system, which probably prevails at present. It is 
said that more than one-half of all the children born in Vanua- 
Levu are destroyed in infancy. In India the practice has 
been abated somewhat by the stringent measures adopted by 
the English government. The Rajputs, it is said, destroy all 
female children but the first-born—a peculiar custom due to 
its being a point of honor with a Rajput to nearly ruin himself 
in the marriage feast and portion of his daughter, so that he 
could not afford to have more than one. The Mohammedans 
were inclined to the same practice, but effected their object 
chiefly by means of abortion. 

The position of modern civilization with reference to 
infanticide is radically different from that entertained in 
ancient and medieval times. The maxim of the law touching 
human life, which is amply sustained by the sentiment of 
civilized nations, is that from its inception to its close it is a 
sacred thing, and that whoever terminates it is a murderer, or 
a criminal to be classed with murderers. Instead of favoring 
and encouraging the destruction of human life, as we have 
seen, was, to a certain extent at least, done by the ancients, our 
modern civilization takes a diametrically opposite course, and 
devises and employs all possible machinery to preserve and 
extend it. Not only is infanticide punished by severe 
penalties, the offense being classed as murder, but means are 
provided to reduce it to the lowest possible limits by present¬ 
ing an escape from exposure and consequent shame, which, as 
already suggested, is the most fruitful source of infanticide 
especially in our times. 


INFANTICIDE 


5i7 

In the list of remedies provided by society for the suppres¬ 
sion of this odious vice, the most prominent and the most suc¬ 
cessful ever devised is that of foundling hospitals, whose 
origin has been already referred to. These institutions 
became quite common in Europe nearly a thousand years ago. 
In 1070 a foundling hospital was established at Montpelier; in 
1200 in Elmbeck; in 1212 in Rome; in Florence in 1317; in 
Nurnberg in 1331; in Paris in 1362; in Vienna in 1380. In 
France the utility of these establishments, which were the 
especial labor of Vincent de Paul, was early called in ques¬ 
tion; and letters patent of Charles VII., in 1445, affirmed that 
“many persons would make less difficulty in abandoning them¬ 
selves to sin when they saw they were not to have the charge 
of the upbringing of their infants. ” In Germany the system 
of foundling hospitals was soon abandoned, the duty of rear¬ 
ing the children being, as in England, imposed by law, first on 
the parents, then on more distant relatives, whom failing, on 
the parish, and, last of all, on the State. The reproach made 
by the Roman Catholic countries against this more natural 
arrangement—that it tends to promote infanticide—is said to 
have been in no degree established by statistical investiga¬ 
tions. 

The Revolution introduced many changes in France, but 
the new government not only adopted the system of foundling 
hospitals, but greatly extended their scope, declaring all 
infants that had been abandoned by their parents “Children of 
the State,” and providing for their maintenance and educa¬ 
tion. They carried the matter to a point that no doubt 
encouraged immorality, by declaring that every girl who 
declared her pregnancy should receive a reward of 120 francs. 
This ridiculous rule was abolished in 1811, but the system of 
maintaining illegitimate children was continued, and every 
town in France of any importance was provided with a found¬ 
ling hospital and a turning wheel. This last was a mechanical 
device by means of which a child could be introduced into the 
hospital without the identity of the person depositing it being 
made known. The expense of rearing a child in one of these 
hospitals to the age of twelve years has been computed at a 


5i3 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


little less than $200. When a child is received it is weighed, 
medically examined and registered. Nurses are provided, 
and many children are boarded outside the walls of the hos¬ 
pital. Under the old system in France an abandoned child 
might be reclaimed at any time. 

The question of retaining the turning-wheel has provoked 
much discussion in France, and it has now been practically 
abolished. The principal argument in its favor is the claim 
that it tends to reduce the crime of infanticide by providing a 
means by which a mother can dispose of her child, with the 
assurance that it will be well cared for and without the shame 
of a public disclosure. On the other hand, it was strongly 
urged that such an arrangement placed a premium, almost, 
upon immorality, by providing a convenient means of escap¬ 
ing from its legitimate effects. At any rate, the turning- 
wheel was most liberally patronized. An official report by 
M. Gasparin, in 1837, showed that abandonment of children 
in France had increased from 70,000 in 1811 to 150,000 in 1837. 
Besides this, he demonstrated that infant mortality was abso¬ 
lutely appalling, and that such a vast number of people, with¬ 
out families, wealth or friends, turned out in their youth, 
swelled the already well-filled ranks of criminals and aban¬ 
doned women. 

Recently, the system in France has been radically changed, 
the policy being to assist mothers in the care and maintenance 
of their illegitimate children, rather than separating them. 
This has been found to work admirably, the number of 
exposures having decidedly diminished. At present there are 
considerably over a hundred foundling hospitals in France. 
They are numerous in Spain, Portugal, Belgium, Austria and 
Norway. Moscow and St. Petersburg contain the largest in 
the world. The Foundling Hospital in London was estab¬ 
lished in 1759. The system was never approved in England, 
and the London Hospital was changed in 1760 to an asylum 
for illegitimate children, whose mothers were known. There 
are but few of these institutions in the United States, and 
these are supported by private charity. 

At the present time infanticide is accounted murder, and 


INFANTICIDE 


5i9 


punished as such by all civilized nations, the age of the party 
killing in no sense mitigating the offense. This crime is, how¬ 
ever, an exceedingly difficult one to establish, since it must be 
proven that the child was born alive and subsequently mur¬ 
dered. Child-murder may also be accomplished in a negative 
way; that is, by neglecting to supply proper sustenance or 
care, upon which infant life depends to a very large extent, 
and the death of an infant through the neglect of those whose 
legal duty it is to provide for it, is a felony in most countries, 
and may be adjudged murder under some circumstances. 
Exposure of infants is now generally punished as a misde¬ 
meanor, as also is the concealment of the death of a child. 

The outline presented of the history of infanticide plainly 
and convincingly demonstrates, what the author has frequently 
suggested and desires to especially emphasize, that the moral 
standard of mankind has been immensely elevated during the 
past two thousand years. While it does not of necessity fol¬ 
low that actual advancement has kept pace with the improved 
moral tone of the world, the circumstance is still of almost 
incalculable importance. While a people never rise to the 
full height of their best standard of morals, it is equally cer¬ 
tain that they never surpass that standard. The civilization 
of the Pagans of Greece and Rome, particularly that of the 
better classes of the people, is hardly surpassed by that of our 
own time. While we exceed them in the matter of inventions 
and those industries that go to make up the temporal wealth 
and happiness of mankind, we hardly equal them in the 
domain of literature and art. Science has made wonderful 
advancement since the days of the Roman Empire, but refine¬ 
ment and taste have rather retrograded. In the field of 
morals, however, we are far in advance of the Pagans. As 
has been shown, many of the best men of antiquity either 
advocated or very lightly condemned infanticide, which was 
almost universally practiced; while in our day, no wretch is so 
debased but what he well understands that it is morally as well 
as legally wrong. 

Many of the Pagan philosophers, both of Greece and Rome, 
were men of high moral standard and almost faultless lives. 


5 2 ° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Yet their standard depended entirely upon human reason, and 
was, of necessity, subject to bias and distortion. With the 
advent of Christianity a system was established that far tran¬ 
scended the power of man to invent, which consisted of a code 
of the highest morality, accompanied by an enthusiasm born 
of devotion to its Divine Author. 

The ancients deprived deformed and sickly children of their 
lives, while the moderns treat those unfortunate classes with 
exceptional consideration and tenderness. The modern 
mother frequently loves her blind or ill-shapen child better 
than any of her handsome offspring. Does not this compar¬ 
ison show that the world is growing better? 


CHAPTER XXX 
SUICIDE 

“Thou shalt not kill!’’ Whether this command, written 
on a table of stone by the finger of God, divinely interdicts the 
taking of one’s own life, has been discussed from time 
immemorial. Among Christians the decision has almost uni¬ 
formly been in the affirmative, and the Jews have universally 
adopted the same interpretation. Shakespeare sets forth the 
popular opinion of his time in the words of the king, Lord 
Hamlet’s uncle, who suggests that he might commit suicide, 
“had not the Almighty set his canon ’gainst self-slaughter.” 
Although not murder, suicide is a form of homicide, and seems 
properly to have a place in a volume treating of the taking of 
human life. 

The enlightened sentiment of civilized mankind is strongly 
opposed to suicide, and only half-civilized, superstitious and 
idolatrous peoples, or those who scoff at all religion, at pres¬ 
ent attempt to defend the practice. In view of this fact, it is 
somewhat remarkable that of all the various original religious 
creeds of the world, only one, distinctly and in terms, con¬ 
demned the taking of one’s own life. Mohammed absolutely 
forbade suicide in the Koran, and his followers have always 
religiously followed the command, the offense being exceed¬ 
ingly rare among them. 

The first instance of suicide mentioned in the Bible, and 
perhaps the earliest that has come down to us, is that of Sam¬ 
son. In his case revenge was clearly the leading motive that 
induced him to give up his own life. At the time when he 
killed so many of the Philistines and ended his own life, he 
was blind and a slave, and a continuance of life could have 
presented few charms to the one-time physical monarch of 

521 


522 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


mankind; nevertheless, revenge was clearly the leading motive. 
This is evident from the prayer he uttered immediately before 
the consummation of the rash and awfully fatal act: “O Lord 
God, remember me, I pray thee, only this once, O God, that I 
may at once be avenged of the Philistines for my two eyes.” 

Such a prayer, asking for divine strength to commit mur¬ 
der and suicide, would be blasphemous to us, but we must not 
forget that God causes the wrath of man to praise Him, and 
that His ways are past finding out. Wicked and desperate as 
it was, the act of Samson was utilized to punish the Philis¬ 
tines and to advance the plans of the Almighty. 

To show that the Mosaic Law was probably understood 
as interdicting suicide, mention may be made of the circum¬ 
stance that but four instances, in addition to that of Samson, 
are mentioned in the Bible. The second and third of these 
are those of Saul and his armor-bearer, which are thus 
recorded in the Scriptures: 

“And the battle went sore against Saul, and the archers 
hit him, and he was sore wounded of the archers. Then Saul 
said unto his armor-bearer, Draw thy sword, and thrust me 
through therewith; lest these uncircumcised come and thrust 
me through, and abuse me. But his armor-bearer would not, 
for he was sore afraid; therefore Saul took a sword and fell 
upon it. And when his armor-bearer saw that Saul was dead, 
he fell likewise upon his sword and died with him.” 

The fourth Biblical suicide is that of Ahithophel, and is of 
much the same order as that of Saul. Ahithophel, in company 
with Absalom, the son of David, had fomented rebellion 
against the established government. The plot having failed, 
the designing and wicked man took his own life to escape the 
legitimate consequences of his own wrong-doing. It is 
recorded that he hanged himself, thus proving the prototype 
of a long list of suicides who have imitated his method in 
“shuffling off this mortal coil.” 

The fifth and last suicide mentioned in the Scriptures is 
that of Judas Iscariot. The circumstances attending his case 
are too well known to require detailing. Having committed a 
sin, in some aspects unrivaled in the annals of crime, which 


SUICIDE 


523 


has made his name a synonym for treachery, he was seized 
with such a deep remorse that, having first contemptuously 
thrown down the price of his infamy before his bribers, he 
went out, and, imitating Ahithophel, hanged himself. Atten¬ 
tion should be called to the circumstance that the first chapter 
of Acts seems to indicate that Judas did not commit suicide, 
but died an accidental death, and that all the early traditions 
dispose of him in the same way. 

An additional instance is sometimes quoted, in that of 
Abimelech, but his case is clearly not one of true suicide. 
While storming a walled town he was severely wounded on 
the head by a stone, cast from the hand of a woman, upon the 
wall. Feeling that his end was fast approaching, he directed 
his armor-bearer to kill him with his sword that it might not 
be said that a woman slew him. A Hebrew historian, in relat¬ 
ing this event, says that his death was a divine judgment for 
having wickedly slain his seventy brethren. 

Although the Jews, even down to the present day, have 
been generally opposed to suicide and have seldom died by 
their own hands, instances of wholesale self-slaughter have 
not been wanting among them. The leading case is that of 
Eleazer, who, together with about a thousand others, took 
refuge in Massada, after the capture of Jerusalem, and 
Josephus, one of the most exact historians that ever lived, has 
furnished us with a detailed account of this most remarkable 
slaughter. Massada, which was quite a noted stronghold, 
was besieged by the Romans under Siloa. When it became 
certain that they were sure to fall into the hands of their 
enemies, the Jews decided to die by their own hands rather 
than surrender to a foe, from whom they had no reason to 
expect mercy. In words that fail to suggest anything of dis¬ 
approval, Josephus thus describes how they reached this 
desperate conclusion. 

“The wall, however, being consumed to the ground, and 
no hope or possibility left of safety or relief, the only brave 
thing they had before them was to consider how they might 
deliver their wives and children from the ignominious out¬ 
rages they might expect from the Romans, whenever they 


5 2 4 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


became the masters of the place. Eleazar concluded, upon the 
balancing of this question, that a glorious death was infinitely 
to be preferred to a life of infamy, and that the most gener¬ 
ous resolution they could take in the world would be not to 
outlive their liberties. ’ ’ 

It appears that Eleazar, having reached this determination, 
called his people together and proceeded to eloquently argue 
the importance of adopting it. When he concluded many 
converts had been made, but a large number remained uncon¬ 
vinced, and a second harangue became necessary. In an 
impassioned address Eleazar again advocated the cause of sui¬ 
cide; he depicted the dreadful scenes that would follow a 
capture, and by his impassioned words so wrought up his 
followers that they all rendered a hearty assent. In describ¬ 
ing the scene that ensued, Josephus says: 

“Such was the passion these people had for the destruction 
of themselves and their families that not one man of them 
shrank when they came to execution. They took their last 
leave of their wives and children in their arms with a kiss and 
a stab. This was a miserable necessity, but they were driven 
upon it by a miserable choice; for the destroying of their 
wives and children—as it appeared to them—was the least evil 
they had before them. ’ ’ 

After this slaughter they gathered together their portable 
property and burnt it, and then, “choosing ten men by lot of 
their number to do execution upon all the rest, they ranged 
themselves as near as they could to the dead bodies of their 
friends, gave them a parting embrace, and cheerfully pre¬ 
sented their throats to those who were to do the inhuman 
office. So soon as the ten had, with a mighty resolution, dis¬ 
charged their part, they cast lots among themselves which of 
the remaining ten should dispatch the other nine, with a con¬ 
dition that the surviving tenth man should kill himself upon 
the bodies of the rest, such confidence had these people in one 
another. The nine died with the same constancy as the rest. 
The last man overlooked the bodies, and finding that they 
were all stark dead, set fire to the palace, and so cast himself 
upon his sword among his friends. The number of the slain 


SUICIDE 


525 


was nine hundred and sixty, reckoning women and children 
into the account. ’ ’ 

No people who ever lived were better accustomed to scenes 
of dreadful slaughter than were the Romans at this time, yet 
even they were horrified at the fearful carnage. Of all the 
stronghold, only seven escaped death. These consisted of two 
women and five children who had taken refuge in an aque¬ 
duct to save their lives. 

These “told the Romans the whole story, which was so 
incredible, however, that they could not believe it. But 
betaking themselves to the quenching of the fire, and following 
their way to the palace, they found such a carnage of dead 
bodies that without insulting and rejoicing as enemies they 
brake into admiration at the generous greatness of the Jews’ 
minds, the steadiness of their counsels, and the obstinate 
agreement of such a number of men in the contempt of 
death. ’ * 

The great historian Josephus came near sharing a like fate 
himself. About the same time, while at the head of a Jewish 
army, he was besieged at Jotaphat. Finding his case hope¬ 
less, Josephus decided to surrender to the enemy, but to this 
order his troops refused to agree, urging the nobler course of 
self-destruction. Replying, the commander set forth the sin 
of suicide, but his eloquent address failed to be convincing. 
The soldiers cast lots for executioners, and proceeded to kill 
each other until only Josephus and one soldier remained. At 
this point the Jewish captain and author proceeded to argue 
the point again with his companion, as a result of which both 
surrendered themselves to the Romans. Neither in sacred or 
profane times do the Jews seem to have looked upon suicide as 
a very grievous offense, and no indignity appears to have been 
shown to the bodies of those who had taken their own lives. 

Brahminism is among the most ancient of all the religious 
creeds of the world. The teachings of this sect were very 
favorable to the commission of suicide. With the Brahmins 
there was nothing of individuality in the soul. They believed 
that each that lived was but a part of the great universal soul 
to which all would ultimately return and be absorbed. 


526 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


According - to their theory, a certain degree of perfection must 
be obtained by the individual before the blissful reunion with 
God could be effected. They believed in the transmigration 
of souls, and expected to return again to what they regarded 
as scenes of trial and suffering, rather than enjoyment. 

From such a philosophy, universally believed, a contempt 
for life and a desire for death was the natural sequence. To 
the Brahmin, life was nothing, God everything; time not to 
be considered, eternity of the last importance. Such men 
could not be expected to have any strong love of life. 
Doubtless they shared this in common with all that live, but 
their education had well-nigh stifled it, and left death as the 
one really desirable thing. Few of us are entirely satisfied 
with our earthly condition, but “the dread of something after 
death” holds most of us in subjection to our present environ¬ 
ment. To the believer in this peculiar faith, death had no 
such terrors; indeed, he welcomed it, hoping that a re-incarna¬ 
tion might improve his condition, make existence more bear¬ 
able, and reduce the distance that separated him from the 
oblivion for which he yearned. Thus suicide became a 
common mode of death. This was particularly true where one 
was afflicted with disease, or was, for any reason, tired of life. 
Thus, religious fanaticism and disease united to furnish most 
of the victims drowned in the Ganges or crushed beneath the 
wheels of the car of Juggernaut. At the present day, even, it 
is the common practice of those afflicted with an incurable 
disease to seek death beneath the waters of the sacred river. 

It was a general belief that lepers, and those dying of any 
other disease, would be afflicted in the same way in their next 
re-incarnation. The only escape from this fate was to perish 
by fire. Accordingly, vast numbers of this class ended their 
existence by casting themselves living into flames. The 
Hindoo had many other methods of committing suicide, among 
them precipitation from great heights, starvation and burial 
alive. In addition to these, self-decapitation was frequently 
practiced. Touching this method, Ward, in his “Hindoos,” 
says: 

“There existed formerly, at a village near Nudeeya, an 




SUICIDE 


527 


instrument which was used by devotees to cut off their own 
heads. It was made in the shape of a half-moon, with a sharp 
edge, and was placed at the back of the neck, having chains 
fastened at the two extremities. The infatuated devotee, 
placing his feet in the two stirrups, gave a violent jerk, and 
severed his head from his body.” 

Buddhism, which was a revolt against Brahminism, was 
still more favorable to suicide. With these two great sects the 
conditions were almost exactly reversed. With the Brahmin, 
God was everything, with the Buddhist, nothing. One looked 
forward to being reabsorbed into the general soul, the other 
to becoming a god himself. The latter was anxious to pursue 
his journey toward a higher life, and regarded suicide as the 
means of accelerating it. 

Even at the present time the Buddhist considers suicide as 
justifiable under many circumstances. In China there are 
some exceptions to this rule, and some suicides are regarded as 
dishonorable, as those which result from losses at gambling, 
and some others. But in general, in China and Japan, 
wherever Buddhism has gained a foothold—and it is now strong 
in both countries—a very small value is placed upon human 
life, and it is given up upon the most trifling occasion and 
often without any reasonable provocation being apparent. 
With the true Buddhist the love of death, or rather the 
eternal joys that are to follow, takes the place of the love of 
life, which is the ruling passion of most mortals, and he 
welcomes any reasonable pretext to quit a disagreeable 
environment. 

When a Chinese or Japanese Buddhist is insulted, instead 
of taking the life of his enemy he commits suicide. Writing a 
century ago, Charlevoix, in his history of Japan, says: 

“Nothing is more common than to see boats filled with 
fanatical worshipers lining the shore, who weight themselves 
with stones and plunge into the sea, or scuttle their vessels, 
and sink with them beneath the waves, all the while pouring 
forth glad hymns to their idols. A crowd of spectators stand¬ 
ing looking on praise them to the skies, and entreat their 
blessing before they disappear. The votaries of Amida 


528 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


immure themselves in caves having only one small breathing 
hole, and barely sitting room, where they quietly wait death 
by starvation. Others plunge into sulphur pits, invoking their 
gods and entreating them to graciously accept the sacrifice of 
their lives.” The lapse of a hundred years has wrought 
little change in Japan and China, where suicide is a very 
common occurrence; drowning, starvation, hara-kiri, or dis- 
embowelment, hanging and several other modes being 
employed. 

The calm deliberation of Japanese suicides is remarkable. 
Once a Japanese has made up his mind to quit this life for a 
better one, he passes several nights without sleep, and sur¬ 
rounded by those of his friends to whom he has confided his 
intention. Discourses on contempt of life, varied by public 
harangues on the one absorbing subject of his thoughts, fill 
up the remainder of his days. At the approach of the 
appointed hour, he summons his family and friends. Choos¬ 
ing from among them such as are willing to die with him, gen¬ 
erally a goodly number, he partakes of a funeral banquet and 
expires. 

Suicide was rare among the early Greeks, and did not 
become common until intercourse with the Romans had con¬ 
taminated them in many ways. Their views of death were in 
marked contrast to the Asiatics, and they violently opposed 
self-destruction. They manifested their abhorrence of the 
practice by offering indignities to the body of the suicide. 
Under an Athenian law such a corpse could not be buried dur¬ 
ing the day. As a further emphasis of disapproval, one of the 
hands was cut off and buried in a separate place to show that 
it had played a false part to its owner. Under no circum¬ 
stances could the body of a suicide receive the honorable rites 
of cremation. 

The only exception made by the ancient Greeks to the gen¬ 
eral condemnation of suicide was those cases where an element 
of patriotism entered into the act, as in the instance of King 
Codrus and Themistocles, both of whom were looked upon as 
patriots. When Attica was invaded, by the Heraclidae, King 
Codrus disguised himself and went among the enemy and 



ADOLI’II LUETGERT INSTRUCTING “SMOKEHOUSE FRANK” HOW TO CRUSH 

THE POTASH.—PAGE 498. 

































































































































































































































SUICIDE 


5 2 9 


picked a quarrel with some soldiers, which resulted in his 
death, which was the object he sought to attain. The 
“Oracle” had pronounced that the leader of the conquering 
army would surely die, and to make the necessary condition 
apply to his side the king gave up his life, believing, no doubt, 
that it would insure the triumph of his troops and the liberty 
of his country. Themistocles was not condemned for com¬ 
mitting suicide, because he took his own life to avoid leading 
the Persians against his own people. 

But this admirable view of the sacredness of human life 
did *not continue in Greece. The rise of the so-called philo¬ 
sophical schools speedily introduced and disseminated far differ¬ 
ent notions, and swept away the laws and customs that had 
long prevailed. The Sophists taught the people that their 
gods were only myths, invented and used to overawe them, 
and advanced a radicalty new doctrine, viz., that reason is 
man’s only true guide. So far, this was a decided advance 
over anything that had preceded it among the Greeks, but the 
Sophists carried the matter much farther, and declared that 
man had absolute freedom, not only as to his life, but as to his 
death as well. As this philosophy was gradually adopted the 
views of the people toward suicide changed, and in time it 
came to be looked upon as a perfectly honorable means of 
quitting a life that, for any reason, had become unbearable, or 
even distasteful. 

The Cynics, who followed the Sophists, considerably 
enlarged upon this theory, and, as a result, suicide became an 
every-day occurrence. Many of the greatest of all philosophers 
of this remarkable school died by their own hand. Among 
them may be recorded Diogenes, the greatest of them all, 
Stelpo, Menedermus, Onesicratus, Metrocles, Demonax and 
Peregrinus. 

The extreme views of the Buddhists were rivaled, if not 
surpassed, by those of the Stoics, who followed the Cynics, and 
from whose name we derive “stoical,” perhaps our strongest 
word for distinguishing contempt for pain and misfortune. 
With them, suicide became a veritable dogma, and life was 
depreciated to a level as low as it ever fell during the palmy 


530 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


days of Brahminism. While the Stoics taught morality and 
practiced the same, leading most severe and highly useful 
lives, they ceased to live the moment they found life dis¬ 
agreeable, and thus exerted a tremendous influence upon their 
time. In addition to Zeno, the founder of the school, 
Cleanthus and many others took their own lives. 

The Epicureans occupied a much lower position than any 
of their philosophic predecessors. With them life was only 
valuable so far as pleasure could be derived from it, and they 
taught and practiced the theory that it was wise to die the 
moment that existence ceased to be pleasurable in the aggre¬ 
gate. The philosophies of Greece soon spread to Rome, where 
they produced results that have not yet ceased to effect man¬ 
kind. The schools that were best received by the Romans were 
the Stoics and Epicureans, and these were made heartily wel¬ 
come, and soon became widely known and decidedly fashion¬ 
able. The Romans were well prepared to accept the doctrine 
of suicide, which was already regarded with considerable 
favor. The fierce fights of gladiators and the numbers of 
barbarian captives who took their own lives, often in the 
public arena, rather than slay their fellow-countrymen, had 
tended to greatly reduce the value of human life and give sui¬ 
cide a decided impetus. 

With astonishing rapidity, suicide became what in the 
present day we might term a “fad.” It was earnestly propa¬ 
gated by multitudes of men, some of whom take a high rank 
among the noblest of their kind. In this long list may be 
included such names as Zeno, Plato, Seneca, Cleanthus, 
Cicero, Epiletus, Marcus Aurelius, and the elder Pliny. Of 
the great men of Pagan Europe, a very large proportion 
terminated their own existence. Thus died Lycurgus, 
Charondas, Themistocles, Demosthenes, Aristarchus, Cato, 
Brutus, Cassius, Mark Antony, Lucian, Seneca, Nero and 
Otho, and a large number of others whose names will last as 
long as civilization continues to exist. 

Seneca, the tutor of the base and cruel Nero, and one of 
the wisest and best of all the ancients, was a most ardent and 
powerful advocate of suicide. No writer has ever pleaded 


SUICIDE 


53i 


more strongly for the propriety of the practice. To show the 
view that almost universally prevailed in that day, a few 
eloquent, almost impassioned sentences, are quoted below from 
the works of the great philosopher: 

“To death alone it is due that life is not a punishment, 
that, erect beneath the frowns of fortune, I can preserve my 
mind unshaken and master of itself. I have one to whom I 
can appeal. I see before me the crosses of many forms—I see 
the rack and the scourge, and the instruments of torture 
adapted to every limb and to every nerve; but I also see 
Death. She stands beyond my savage enemies, beyond my 
haughty fellow-countrymen. Slavery loses its bitterness 
when by a step I can pass to liberty. Against all the injuries 
of life I have the refuge of death. Wherever you look, there 
is the end of evils. You see that yawning precipice—there 
you may descend to liberty. You see that sea, that river, that 
well—liberty sits at the bottom. Do you seek the way to free¬ 
dom?—you may find it in every vein of your body. If I can 
choose between the death of torture and one that is simple and 
easy, why should I not select the latter? As I choose the ship 
in which I sail, and the house I will inhabit, so I will choose 
the death by which I will leave life. In no matter more than 
death should we act according to our desire. Depart from life 
as your impulse leads you, whether it be by the sword, or the 
rope, or the poison creeping through the veins; go your way, 
and break the chains of slavery. Man should seek the appro¬ 
bation of others in his life; his death concerns himself alone. 
That is the best which pleases him most. The eternal law has 
decreed nothing better than this; that life should have but one 
entrance and many exits. Why should I endure the agonies 
of disease, and the cruelties of human tyranny, when I can 
emancipate myself from all my torments, and shake off every 
bond? For this reason, but for this alone, life can be esteemed 
no just cause of complaint—that no one is obliged to live. 
The lot of man is happy, because no one continues wretched 
but by his fault. If life pleases you, live; if not, you have a 
right to return whence you came. ” 

The Roman law did little to retard or even discourage sui- 


532 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


cide; indeed, but two slight restrictions were placed upon 
what was recognized as the universal right of all. It had long 
been customary for those who were accused of political 
offenses to take their own lives before trial, to the end that 
they might avoid the ignominious exposure of their bodies, 
and the confiscation of their goods to the State. Domitian put 
a stop to this practice by decreeing that the suicide of an 
accused person should carry with it the same condemnation 
and penalties as though he had been tried and convicted. 
Afterwards, the Emperor Hadrian declared the suicide of a 
Roman soldier to be equivalent to desertion. In 1802 his 
example was emulated by the Emperor Napoleon, who issued 
a similar order to check the prevalence of suicide among his 
soldiers. 

The Emperor Otho is said to have committed suicide to 
avoid being a second time the cause of a civil war. Upon his 
death some of his soldiers, filled with grief and admiration, 
killed themselves before his corpse. It is said that the suicide 
of Otho was extolled as of equal grandeur with that of Cato. 
Cato lived during the Roman Republic, and attempted to 
bring about much-needed reforms in the commonwealth. In 
this he opposed the three most powerful men in Rome, 
Crassus, Pompey and Caesar. In the civil wars that ensued 
Cato finally sided with Pompey, after whose death he carried 
on a losing fight. His last act was the defense of Utica. 
Here, when he had tidings of Caesar’s victory over Scipio at 
Thapsus (April 6, 46 B. C.), Cato, finding that his troops were 
wholly intimidated, advised the Roman senators and knights 
to escape from Utica, and make terms with the victor, but pro¬ 
hibited all intercessions in his own favor. He resolved to die 
rather than surrender, and, after spending the night in read¬ 
ing Plato’s Phaedo, which argued strongly for the immortality 
of the soul, committed suicide by stabbing himself in the 
breast. 

Joseph Addison, in his drama of Cato, represents the 
famous soldier and statesman, a sword and the scroll of Plato 
before him, soliloquizing as follows over his contemplated sui¬ 
cide: 


SUICIDE 


533 


“ It must be so; Plato, thou reasonest well! 

Else whence this pleasing hope, this fond desire, 

This longing after immortality? * 

Or whence this secret dread, the inward horror, 

Of falling into naught? Why shrinks the soul 
Back on herself, and startles at destruction? 

’Tis the divinity that stirs within us; 

’Tis Heaven itself, that points out a hereafter, 

And intimates eternity to man. 

Eternity! thou pleasing, dreadful thought! 

Through what variety of untried being, 

Through what new scenes and changes must we pass! 

The wide, the unbounded prospect lies before me; 

But shadows, clouds, and darkness rest upon it. 

Here will I hold. If there’s a Power above us 
(And that there is, all Nature cries aloud 
Through all her works), he must delight in virtue; 

And that which he delights in must be happy. 

But when? or where? This world was made for Caesar. 

I’m weary of conjectures,—this must end them. 

[Laying his hand on his sword] 

Thus am I doubly armed; my death and life, 

My bane and antidote, are both before me. 

This in a moment brings me to an end. 

But this informs me I shall never die. 

The soul secured in her existence, smiles 
At the drawn dagger—and defies its point. 

The stars shall fade away, the sun himself 
Grow dim with age, and nature sink in years; 

But thou shalt flourish in immortal youth, 

Unhurt amid the war of elements, 

The wreck of matter, and the crash of worlds!” 

A story that illustrates the Roman tendency to suicide and 
likewise shows the seemingly slight provocation upon which 
men will sacrifice their lives, has come down to us from the 
days of ancient Rome. Tarquin, known as “The Proud,” 
having finished a-brilliant campaign, brought his victorious 
army back to the “Eternal City.” Having no enterprise in 
hand upon which he could employ his soldiers, he decided to 
set them to work as laborers in the building of drains and 
sewers and other improvements of the city. The soldiers 
rebelled at these irksome and ignoble tasks, and, having no 


534 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


other escape, resorted to suicide. This now developed into a 
regular mania, and large numbers daily took their own lives; 
in fact, the destruction of the entire army began to be seri¬ 
ously threatened, and severe methods were decided upon by 
Tarquin. Accordingly, he issued an edict to the effect that 
the bodies of all soldiers who committed suicide should be 
crucified and exposed upon the streets in full view of the 
curious populace. This order had the desired effect, the 
Roman soldier caring more for what he deemed his honor 
than he did for his life, and the practice disappeared. It may 
be remarked, in passing, that efforts to employ trained soldiers 
in menial tasks have signally failed in all ages of the world. 

The self-destruction of Petronius Arbiter, the favorite of 
the Emperor Nero, was performed in an altogether unprec¬ 
edented manner. Petronius was charged with conspiracy 
against the life of the emperor, and, as the charge was 
credited, he determined to withdraw himself from Nero’s 
punishment by a voluntary death. He ordered his veins to be 
opened, and apparently wished to show that he desired to die 
in the same careless and unconcerned manner as he had 
lived. He passed his time in discoursing with his friends 
upon trifles, and listened with the greatest avidity to love 
verses, amusing stories or laughable epigrams. Sometimes he 
manumitted his slaves or punished them, with stripes. In this 
careless and ludicrous manner he spent his last moments, until 
nature was exhausted. Before he expired he wrote an epistle 
to the emperor, in which he described with a masterly hand his 
nocturnal extravagances, and the daily impurity of his actions. 
This letter was carefully sealed, and after he had caused it to 
be conveyed privately to the emperor, Petronius broke his 
signet, that it might not after his death become a snare to the 
innocent. This Petronius is the leading character in the 
popular novel, “QuoVadis.” 

Zeno, the founder of the sect of stoical philosophers, who 
has already been referred to, acted up to the principles which 
he inculcated in his disciples. It is recorded that his suicide 
took place in the following manner: As he was going out of 
his school one day, at the age of ninety-eight, he fell down 


SUICIDE 


535 


and put a finger out of joint, whereupon he exclaimed, refer¬ 
ring to the gods: “So you want me, do you?” and went home 
and hanged himself. Zeno’s successor, Cleanthus, ended his 
days by suicide in a remarkable manner. Having used absti¬ 
nence for two da) r s by the advice of his physician, for the cure 
of a trifling indisposition under which he was laboring, he had 
permission to return to his former diet; but he refused, say¬ 
ing, that as he had advanced so far on his journey towards 
death, he would not retreat. He accordingly starved himself 
to death. 

Among the ancient Greeks the utterances of the Oracles are 
said to have been the cause of many suicides. As is well 
known, the ancient Grecians regarded the prophesies and 
counsels uttered by the priests who served at these shrines as 
absolutely infallible. One of the most famous was the Oracle 
of the god Apollo at Delphi, and this is said to have been 
especially prolific in promoting self-destruction. Cadmus, 
King of Athens, killed himself because he was advised by the 
Oracle that his death would promote the welfare of the State. 
The same motive is said to have prompted the suicide of 
Lycurgus, the celebrated law-giver of Sparta. 

On the island of Leucas or Leucadia, situated in the Ionian 
Sea, near the coast of Epirus, which in modern times is known 
as St. Maura, was a famous promontory called Leucate, from 
which desponding and disappointed lovers were wont to cast 
themselves into the sea. This was the spot, according to the 
ancient legends, where Sappho destroyed herself in order to be 
free from the violent passion which she entertained for 
Pharon. Some Greek writers have said that her suicide orig¬ 
inated the custom and that her example was frequently fol¬ 
lowed by those who suffered from unrequited love. 

The inhabitants of Central Asia have never been greatly 
addicted to suicide, the Tartars particularly, having always 
been singularly free from the practice. In Persia it has been 
of rare occurrence from the earliest times. This is probably 
due to the nature of the religion of the country, which, with¬ 
out positively prohibiting self-destruction, tended to materially 
discourage it. Among all these peoples, however, suicide 


536 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


was permissible under certain circumstances, and was not 
regarded as especially dishonorable. 

From the earliest recorded times, suicide was practiced in 
ancient Egypt, where it was regarded as an entirely honor¬ 
able mode of death. Large numbers of the Egyptians died by 
their own hands, and about the beginning of the Christian 
era the practice seems to have arrived at its maximum 
growth. Egypt had long been deteriorating, and had sunk to 
a low level at that time. Rameses the Great, one of the most 
prominent figures of antiquity, who was a victorious warrior 
while yet a mere boy, very deliberately ended his own life, for 
the reason that he had become blind. 

Suicide was not more common or honorable among the 
Greeks and Romans of Southern Europe than with the Norse¬ 
men, Goths, and other barbaric peoples of the northern and 
western portions of the continent. These warriors, who 
conquered almost the whole of Western Europe, including 
Britain and Ireland, and even marched victoriously through 
the streets of the “Eternal City,” above all the ills of life, 
feared a peaceful death from the effects of old age, and com¬ 
paratively few of them ever died in that way. This custom 
was chargeable to their religious, or, more properly, supersti¬ 
tious faith. According to their belief there was but one way 
to gain admission to the presence of their god, Odin, 
within the sacred precincts of the Hall of Valhalla. The 
significance of this term clearly indicates the method of enter¬ 
ing it. The “Hall of Valhalla” means, literally, “the hall of 
those dead of violence.” Death met in battle was the most 
honorable of all, but those who took their own lives in a 
violent manner were not excluded, as, however, were all who 
died a natural death. In consequence of this belief, which 
was fixed and universal, comparatively few succumbed to 
death in the ordinary course of nature. This superstition is 
largely responsible for the almost unparalleled bravery of 
these people, most of whom, particularly when advanced in 
life or afflicted with a disease that might soon prove fatal, 
actually courted death. When such, by what they regarded as 
a most unfortunate chance, escaped the death they coveted, 


SUICIDE 


537 


suicide was the only remaining route by which to gain bliss 
beyond the grave, and they eagerly resorted to it. 

In what marked contrast to this fear of dying of old age is 
the Christian notion! With the decay of the baser passions 
and impulses that too frequently sway youth and manhood, the 
loftier attributes of the soul are thrown strongly into the fore¬ 
ground, and the declining years of a truly good man become 
the highest compliment that can be paid to poor human 
nature, besides furnishing an example of almost priceless value 
to youth. Of all creatures such a person should be the last to 
contemplate suicide. Robert Blair, in his sombre but beauti¬ 
ful poem, “The Grave,” thus describes the last days of a truly 
good and pious old man: 

“Thrice welcome death! 

That, after many a painful, bleeding step, 

Conducts us to our home, and lands us safe 
On the long wish’d for shore. Prodigious change! 

Our bane turn’d to a blessing! Death, disarm’d. 

Loses his fellness quite; all thanks to Him 
Who scourged the venom out. Sure the last end 
Of the good man is peace! How calm his exit! 

Night dews fall not more gently to the ground, 

Nor weary worn-out winds expire so soft. 

Behold him! in the evening tide of life, 

A life well spent, whose early care it was 
His riper years should not upbraid his green; 

By unperceived degrees he wears away; 

Yet, like the sun, seems larger at his setting! 

High in his faith and hopes, look how he reaches 
After the prize in view! and like a bird 
That’s hamper’d, struggles hard to get away! 

Whilst the glad gates of sight are wide expanded 
To let the new glories in, the first fair fruits 
Of the fast coming harvest. Then, oh! then 
Each earth-born joy grows vile, or disappears, 

Shrunk to a thing of naught! Oh, how he longs 
To have his passport signed, and be dismiss’d! 

’Tis done—and now he’s happy! The glad soul 
Has not a wish uncrown’d.” 

Among the many legends of the ancient Vikings is one to 
the effect that when any one of these pirate princes felt his 
end approaching, he demanded to be carried upon the ship 


53$ 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


which he had commanded, that the vessel be rowed out into 
the sea, and then set on fire, meeting death with unruffled 
serenity, believing that upon this sea of fire his soul was 
destined to float to the Hall of Valhalla. It is not surprising 
that a warrior, vanquished and cast to earth, patiently awaited 
the coming of the foe whose sword he knew would dispatch 
him. A favorite mode of suicide among the Scandinavians of 
this early period was the leaping from a rock into the surging, 
boiling caldron of waters below. This was ordinarily consid¬ 
ered a method of “departure to Odin. ’’ Some historians claim 
that this custom was so common that many of the rocks of 
Sweden have become famous as points from which self- 
destruction was perpetrated. In fact, there are certain crags 
in the Scandinavian Peninsula which are now pointed out as 
the scenes of self-destruction. They are usually called 
Attestupor (stem of the rock). One of these rests upon a 
slope of a lake in the interior province. More frequently, 
however, there are pointed out to the traveler those which abut 
upon the sea, from which, according to ancient superstition, 
the entrance to the Hall of Odin was more easy. Travelers in 
Sweden and Norway are always greatly interested in the pub¬ 
lic superstition attaching to these stones. A quaint Swedish 
writer, referring to the practice of self-destruction in early 
days, says that “it is useless to give ourselves up to groans 
and complaints, or to put our relatives to needless expense, 
since we can easily follow the example of our fathers, who 
have gone by the way of the rock.” 

All sorts of traditions cluster around these spots which are 
pointed out to travelers by the Swedish peasants. For 
instance, two rocks are found in West Forhland, to which had 
been given the name Valhal, because at one time the populace 
of Sweden supposed that they stood directly above the 
entrance of Odin’s Hall. Another of these rocks is known to 
the common people as Stafva Hill, which is said to have been, 
at one time, the scene of numerous suicides by the followers 
and devotees of Odin. 

Those who were too feeble with age or from sickness to 
enter a battle were often carried, at their most urgent request, 


SUICIDE 


539 


upon battle-fields and left there, in the hope that a chance bolt 
or blow might end their lives. In this peculiar belief the 
men of the North bore a resemblance to the Mohammedans, 
who, later on, believed that death on the field of battle was 
the surest method of attaining a happy immortality. 

With the spread of Christianity, the worship of Odin, with 
all the horrible beliefs which that worship implied, came to an 
end. The Scandinavian Peninsula is to-day Christian from 
one end to the other, yet remnants of the old belief may still 
be distinguished in the custom, which yet prevails in certain 
parts of Sweden, of burying a warrior attired in his full 
accoutrements. 

To a certain extent the ancient Celts took a similar view of 
death, and preferred perishing upon the battle-field to any 
other mode of departing this life. The Celts firmly believed 
in the reality of a future life, which largely accounts for the 
readiness with which they embraced the Christian faith. 
While by no means so frequent as with the Norsemen, suicide 
was not uncommon among them, particularly in old age. 


CHAPTER XXXI 


SUICIDE —CONTINUED 

Had the Christian religion accomplished no other end than 
the elevation in the popular mind of the value and the sanctity 
of human life, it would still justly be accounted the greatest 
boon ever allotted to humanity. As appears from the preced¬ 
ing chapter, the world at the time the Redeemer was born was 
plunged in degradation, and human life was held at a low 
price. To people who contemplate suicide as an honorable 
means of escaping the trials and perplexities of life, truly great 
and good actions are almost impossible of accomplishment. 
The influence of Christianity in checking suicide, which had 
become a veritable mania in almost every civilized country, 
was two-fold. It taught the universal brotherhood of man and 
presented God in the guise of a kind Father, to whom the 
entire human family owed obedience and love. From this 
general proposition followed the corollary, that man must not 
offend his Maker by going unsummoned into His presence, 
and, likewise, that he owes duties to his fellows that he can¬ 
not, in good conscience, avoid by giving up his life. Its 
second effect in checking self-murder consisted in the doctrine 
that all are not equally happy after death, and that an eternity 
of bliss can only be attained by right living and right dying. 
Many of the religious and philosophical systems of the 
ancients contained admirable precepts and theories, but they 
failed to give life the all-important and sacred place to which 
it was elevated by the religion of Christ. 

It has often been pointed out that the founder of Chris¬ 
tianity never denounced suicide. The same may be said of 
many other crimes which he never mentioned, and the 
omission cannot be twisted into any form of approval or 

54o 


S U ICI D E—C O N TI N U E D 


54i 


excuse. The whole tenor of his teachings is opposed to any¬ 
thing so monstrous. In his doctrine, submission to the will of 
God has the most prominent place. Add to this the circum¬ 
stance that he healed the sick, and even recalled to life some 
who had departed from this world, and his position cannot for 
a moment be doubted. 

The early Fathers of the Church wrote and preached 
against suicide, yet it was not until several centuries hacf 
elapsed that the Church did anything more than strongly 
remonstrate against the practice. Notwithstanding this, sui¬ 
cide was rare among the early Christians, as compared with the 
pagan peoples with whom they came in contact. With the 
advent of persecution, however, it became much more com¬ 
mon. Where opposition is not sufficiently strong to crush a 
movement it usually tends to rapidly develop it. To suffer 
torture and even death by reason of their faith, so far from 
conquering those zealous disciples of our Lord, actually 
encouraged them and developed such an unbounded enthu¬ 
siasm, such a yearning for the joys of the newly revealed 
heaven, that many, so far from shrinking back and trying to 
avoid their fate, literally met death half-way, while some were 
raised to such a fervor as to take their own lives. 

The suicidal tendency of the early Christians is one of the 
darkest clouds upon the beginnings of the Church, and yet it 
cannot, in reason, be very strongly condemned. The faith 
was new, and enthusiasm at a white heat. The days of the 
apostles, and even Christ himself, lay in the recent past. 
The new religion was such a radical departure from any that 
had preceded it that its full force and almost infinite meaning 
was hardly appreciated by those who received it with open 
arms. What wonder that transient life seemed valueless to 
their eyes as compared with the eternal bliss of heaven? For 
a long time the Christian had no need to resort to suicide, 
persecution furnishing ample opportunity for all who wished 
to quit this life, and forcing thousands to do so who were far 
from being weary of existence. After a time, however, per¬ 
secution began to wane, and comparatively few Christians were 
put to death by the authorities. Then the mania for death 


542 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


manifested itself in full force, and the means of quitting a life 
that had become vanity, and gaining the skies, were eagerly 
sought after. The pagans were often deliberately incited to 
acts of violence by the actions of the Christians who sought 
death. Many instances are given by reliable historians where, 
when brought before the magistrates for judgment, the 
accused begged that sentence of death might be imposed upon 
them. Edward Gibbon, one of the most accurate and pains¬ 
taking of modern historians, in his “History of the. Decline 
and Fall of the Roman Empire,” has this to say on the 
subject: 

“Stories are related of the courage of martyrs who actually 
performed what Ignatius had intended; who exasperated the 
fury of the lions, pressed the executioner to hasten his office, 
cheerfully leaped into the fires which were kindled to consume 
them, and discovered a sensation of joy and pleasure in the 
midst of the most exquisite tortures. Several examples have 
been preserved of a zeal impatient of those restraints which 
the emperors had provided for the security of the Church. 
The Christians sometimes supplied by their voluntary declara¬ 
tions the want of an accuser, rudely disturbed the public serv¬ 
ice of paganism, and rushing in crowds around the tribunals, 
called upon them to pronounce and to inflict the sentence of 
the law. ” 

It is recorded that, upon one such occasion, the pro- 
consul, Antonius Pius, refused to grant the prayers of those 
who were clamoring for death, saying: “Unhappy men, 
unhappy men! if you are thus weary of your lives, is it so 
difficult for you to find ropes and precipices?” 

It must not be understood that this course was approved by 
all Christians; as a matter of fact, it was strongly opposed by 
the great majority of those whom enthusiasm had not deprived 
of reason. The early Church was broken up into sects, some 
of which were denounced as heretical and whose actions can¬ 
not be charged against the great body of Christians. Among 
these were the Donatists, who sprang into existence early in 
the fourth century. The first Council of Arles (August i, A. 
D. 314) decided against Donat us, a Numidian bishop, who then 


SUICIDE —CONTINUED 


543 


seceded from the Catholic Church and established the sect that 
bore his name. By the beginning of the fifth century, the 
Donatists had become very powerful, well-nigh rivaling the 
Catholics in point of numbers. This sect, while advocating 
many really admirable doctrines, was absolutely fanatical on 
the subject of suicide as a means of attaining speedy transi¬ 
tion to heaven. Touching this sect, Gibbon has this to say: 

“Many of these fanatics were possessed with a horror of 
life, and the desire of martyrdom; and they deemed it of little 
moment by what means or by what hands they perished, if 
their conduct was sanctified by the intention of devoting them¬ 
selves to the glory of the true faith and the hope of eternal 
happiness. Sometimes they rudely disturbed the festivals and 
profaned the temples of paganism, with the design of exciting 
the most zealous of the idolators to revenge the insulted honor 
of their gods. They sometimes forced their way into the 
courts of justice and compelled the affrighted judge to give 
orders for their immediate execution. They frequently 
stopped travelers on the public highways, and obliged them 
to inflict the stroke of martyrdom by the promise of a reward 
if they consented, and by the threat of instant death if they 
refused to grant so very singular a favor. When they were 
disappointed of every other resource, they announced the day 
on which, in the presence of their friends and brethren, they 
should cast themselves headlong from some lofty rock; and 
many precipices were shown which had acquired fame by the 
number of religious suicides. ’ ’ 

The third Council of Arles, A. D. 452, condemned suicide 
under any and all circumstances, and from this date what may 
be termed voluntary Christian martyrdom began to decline, 
though it continued among the Donatists and some other sects 
for a full century, and the denunciation was repeated by the 
Church, over and over again, before the desired end was fully 
accomplished. But although smothered, the desire for 
martyrdom was not effectually quenched, and blazed up on 
more than one occasion, centuries after. Several instances of 
this kind occurred during the Crusades, and even at later 
periods. On this point Dr. J. J. O’Dea, in his admirable 


544 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


work, “Suicide; Its Philosophy, Causes and Prevention,” has 
this to say: 

“At the battle of Hittin, where the Latin Empire of the 
East was broken forever, those Knights Templars who refused 
to adopt the Moslem faith were ruthlessly slain by command of 
Saladin; and many Christian soldiers who thirsted for the glory 
of martyrdom, but were not of that order, put on the mantles 
of the slain Templars, and went gladly to their deaths.” 

Many women, in all ages of the world, have resorted to 
suicide to escape defilement. This was true of the Greeks and 
Romans, and many historical instances might be cited. 
Somewhat different was the case of Lucretia, the beautiful 
and virtuous Roman matron, whom Shakespeare made the 
subject of a powerful poem. After having been overpowered 
and brutally treated by Tarquin Sextus, she committed suicide 
from very shame. 

The early Christian women frequently resorted to suicide 
from this cause, and a long list of their names has come down 
to us. This course was defended by many of the Fathers of 
the Church, among them such eminent religious authorities as 
St. Ambrose, St. Jerome, and St. Chrysostom. On the other 
hand, the greatest, perhaps, of them all, St. Augustine, held, 
and taught in no uncertain way, that suicide for the preserva¬ 
tion of chastity was unwarrantable and absolutely sinful. But, 
while the Church strongly combated suicide, as has been 
already shown, it went so far as to canonize as a saint Pelagia, 
who, to escape her would-be ravishers, threw herself from a 
housetop and met instant death. On this subject, John 
Donne, the English poet and theologian, says: 

“The memory of Pelagia as a virgin and a martyr is cele¬ 
brated the 9th of June. . . . The Church celebrates the 

act as though it were glad to take any occasion of approving 
such a courage in such a cause, which was the preservation of 
chastity. ’ ’ 

When Rome fell before the victorious Northern hordes of 
the Goths, under the leadership of Alaric, in 410, great num¬ 
bers of Christian women took their own lives to escape the 
hands of the fierce barbarians. 


SUICIDE —CONTINUED 


545 


In the early centuries of the Christian era suicide was quite 
common among those who had withdrawn from the world and 
resided in monasteries. A considerable part of these are to 
be charged to melancholy resulting from seclusion from 
friends and the pleasures of life, depression of spirits being, as 
is well understood, one of the most fruitful causes of suicide. 
In many instances it was caused by long contemplation of the 
lives of the early martyrs and the glories of the world to 
come, which were painted in high colors in the literature of 
the early Church. Occasionally, even at the present day, truly 
devout and good people take their own lives under intense 
religious excitement. Modern science, however, classes such 
people as insane, which, no doubt, was the real condition of a 
large proportion of those who took their own lives in ancient 
times. 

An extraordinary instance of suicide as the result of a mind 
unbalanced through religious fanaticism occurred in Venice, 
in the person of a shoemaker named Matthew Loval. Labor¬ 
ing under a delusion that he was fulfilling the commands of 
the Almighty, he determined to die by crucifixion. For three 
days he pondered over the matter, and at the expiration of this 
period, having crowned himself with thorns and stripped him¬ 
self of his clothing, he bound a handkerchief around his waist 
and climbed upon a cross Avhich he had himself constructed, 
placing each foot upon a. ledge made for that purpose. He 
transfixed his feet with five nails five inches in length, which 
he himself firmly hammered into the wood. He then impaled 
both hands upon metal points, which he had attached to the 
cross for that purpose. Before attaching his left hand, how¬ 
ever, he inflicted a deep wound in his left side, it evidently 
being his intention to emulate the death of Christ as com¬ 
pletely as he was able. Having made all these preparations, 
he contrived, by means of ropes which he had fixed for the pur¬ 
pose, to drag his cross out of the window, where he remained 
suspended until the following day. When discovered his right 
hand had become detached from the cross, but otherwise he 
was securely fastened to it. He was taken down and carried 
to the hospital. Strange to say, he recovered, but was at once 


546 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


sent to an insane asylum. Here he soon afterwards died, the 
primary cause of his death being pulmonary consumption, 
which was, in the opinion of the physicians, aggravated by his 
constant endeavors to fast. 

Efforts have been made in every nation in Christendom to 
check the tendency to suicide by means of legislative enact¬ 
ment. During the reign of Louis IX. of France it was enacted 
that the property of a suicide should be confiscated to the use 
of the State, and later, in the seventeenth century, it was 
decreed that the body of a self-murderer should be ignomini- 
ously dragged at the cart’s tail. This remained upon the 
statute book until 1789, when it was repealed by the national 
assembly, that body regarding such a regulation as an interfer¬ 
ence with the right of individual action. 

Mankind is much given to imitation, and this quality, or 
trait, has been responsible for no end of suicides, and also has 
largely shaped the means by which they were committed. 
One of the most remarkable instances of this kind occurred 
among the women of Miletus, an ancient and most flourishing 
city of Ionia, in Asia Minor. Large numbers of the Milesian 
women committed suicide for the one reason that their hus¬ 
bands and lovers were detained by the wars much longer than 
they had anticipated. This would seem no reasonable cause 
for suicide, and in the present day would lead to no such 
results. Indeed, it can be explained upon no other hypothesis 
than that of an inability to resist the examples that were so 
universally presented. A constant and truly devoted woman 
would glory in the services her lover or husband was render¬ 
ing her country, and await his return with fidelity, if not with 
patience; while one of a frivolous or trifling character would 
seek a new one. This outbreak, which proved of a most 
serious character, was finally terminated by an edict that the 
bodies of all suicides should be carried naked through the 
streets. In this instance the inherent feeling of modesty 
proved stronger than the passion of mourning love. 

A similar epidemic broke out in Lyons, France, during the 
seventeenth century. In this instance no cause whatever 
could be found for the mania which swept over the city, carry- 


SUICIDE —CONTINUED 


547 


ing to untimely and dishonorable graves many of the fairest 
and wealthiest of its women. The governor of Lyons broke 
up the practice, much as it had been done in Miletus, by 
declaring that the bodies of those who took their own lives 
should be exposed naked in the market-place. The women of 
these cities must have been in a decidedly abnormal condition. 
The sudden cessation of the practice upon the order exposing 
their bodies being made, is explained by Dr. S. A. K. Strahan, 
in his recent work entitled “Suicide and Insanity,” on the 
theory that those most predisposed to yield to the mania had 
been among the first to terminate their existence, and that the 
remainder were more easily influenced by a sense of shame. 

Even representations on the stage have been known to lead 
to large numbers of suicides. Legoyt says that after M. de 
Vigny’s drama “Chatterton” was performed in Paris, many per¬ 
sons, chiefly of a highly sentimental organization, killed them¬ 
selves in imitation of the death of the hero. The name of this 
highly-gifted but most unfortunate young suicide is entitled to 
more than a passing notice. He was born at Bristol, England, 
in 1752. On the opening of the new bridge at Bristol in 1768, 
when Thomas Chatterton was but sixteen years of age, he sent 
to a newspaper an account, written in antique style, both as 
to phraseology and spelling, of the opening of the old bridge, 
several centuries before, which he claimed to have taken from 
an ancient manuscript. For a time he turned out poems, and 
historical and biographical sketches, which he claimed to have 
taken from ancient documents that had curiously come into 
his possession. He succeeded in deceiving some of the fore¬ 
most literary men of England, among them Horace Walpole. 
Chatterton produced an enormous amount of literary matter 
which was highly praised, but which brought him next to no 
money at all. Finally, in poverty and desperation, he com¬ 
mitted suicide in 1770, before he had attained the age of eight¬ 
een years. Chatterton was the greatest prodigy in the whole 
world of literature. Had some friend come to his assistance, 
and prolonged his life, he would doubtless have proved him¬ 
self the greatest author that ever lived upon earth. He was 
never mentally a child, his mind having been developed from 


548 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


his very cradle. That his abnormal mind was somewhat 
unbalanced may be concluded from his peculiar methods and 
his suicidal death. 

While the Jews, in their normal condition, have usually 
been singularly exempt from the practice of self-destruction, 
instances are not wanting where they have been stricken with 
suicidal mania and have taken their own lives in large num¬ 
bers. During the tenth and fourteenth centuries, large num¬ 
bers of Jews took their own lives to escape cruel persecution, 
and how many have preferred death to slavery will never be 
known. On one occasion, at York, England, five hundred 
committed suicide to escape the persecution to which they 
were being subjected. During the fourteenth century vast 
numbers of them took their own lives in several Rheinish 
towns, during the awful prevalence of the “Black Death.” 

Imitation extends often to the means employed, and the 
place selected for the commission of the last rash act. 

A monument in London, erected in commemoration of 
the great fire of 1666, has been the scene of many acts of 
self-destruction. At the time of its construction it was con¬ 
sidered the finest isolated column in the world. As it is over 
two hundred feet in height, and as the public were permitted 
to ascend it upon the payment of a trivial fee, it was fre¬ 
quently selected as a vantage-point from which those contem¬ 
plating self-murder might leap with an assurance of success. 
Indeed, the frequency of such acts led to the erection of a stout 
iron framework around the outer gallery at the top of the 
monument, although the high staircase is still a place well 
adapted for the commission of suicide. St. Paul’s Cathedral 
in London has also been a site selected by self-murderers for 
the accomplishment of their plans, as have also been the 
towers of the Crystal Palace at Sydenham. Since the comple¬ 
tion of the great Brooklyn bridge, a large number of people 
have ended their lives by leaping from its lofty height into 
the river below, and a high bridge in Lincoln Park, Chicago, 
has attained a like uncanny reputation. 

The following instances of suicide are at once interesting 
and instructive, as showing the small provocation required to 


SUICIDE —CONTINUED 


549 


cause some people to take their own lives, and the unique 
methods adopted by others. An English servant girl, who 
had always borne a good character, was once accused of theft. 
Thereupon she determined to kill herself. Repairing to the 
wash-room, she plunged her head in a pail of water, and was 
found dead in this position. Two French soldiers, having 
resolved to leave the world, went to St. Denis, where they 
ordered an elaborate dinner. They spent the day, which hap¬ 
pened to be Christmas, in a festive manner, and then shot 
themselves, leaving a number of empty bottles, the last will 
and testament of each, some letters, a few coins for the 
waiter, and the amount of their bill upon the table at which 
they had been dining. In the year 1834, an Italian nobleman 
cast himself into the crater of Mt. Vesuvius; a German peas¬ 
ant heard of his death, and, anxious to emulate his example, 
finding himself without the means to travel so far as Vesuvius, 
threw himself into a smelting furnace. A curious method of 
suicide was that adopted by a Frenchman, whose name has not 
come down to us; he attached his body to an enormous rocket, 
and died in a blaze of glory in mid-air. It is hardly necessary 
to remind the reader of the case of Vatel, a celebrated cook, 
who prided himself upon his skill as a chef. He could not 
endure the mortification of having sent up dinner without 
fish. The fish not having arrived, he found himself reduced 
to a most lamentable extremity, and at once, perhaps because 
he considered his reputation to have been indelibly stained, 
plunged a sword through his heart. 

“Suicide Clubs” are by no means uncommon, a number 
having been discovered and “written up” in the newspapers 
during recent years. Such a thing seems to involve an 
absurdity and makes a strong demand upon human credulity 
to believe it true; yet there is no doubt as to the reality of 
such organizations. Dr. Schlegel, a German writer, is 
authority for the statement that some years ago there existed 
in Paris a society calling themselves “Friends of Suicide,” and 
had a membership of twelve. Each member was required to 
prove that he was a man of honor, and that he had suffered 
some injustice at the hands of another, before he was eligible 


55 ° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


for admission to the select band. The ingratitude of a friend, 
the faithlessness of a mistress, the infidelity of a wife; these, 
and multitudes of other troubles, were regarded as of sufficient 
gravity to be so ranked. Each year a lot was cast to decide 
which of the members should commit suicide in the presence 
of his colleagues. So intense was the disgust and indignation 
of Dr. Schlegel at the toleration of such practices in Paris, that 
he called the French metropolis “a suffocating, boiling caldron 
which, like the stew of Macbeth’s witches, simmered with a 
modicum of virtue, all kinds of passions, vices and crimes. ’ ’ 

“Two clubs of this kind have come to light within the past 
year,’’ said Strahan, writing in 1893. “In the early months of 
1892 five cadets of the Roumanian Military School at Crajova, 
committed suicide by shooting themselves with revolvers, and 
an official inquiry was held with a view of discovering the 
cause of such fatality. It was then found that there existed a 
‘suicide club’ of nineteen members; that the five cadets who 
killed themselves had been members of the club, and had shot 
themselves in accordance with the rules of their society. It 
appeared that the members were bound by a fearful oath to 
obey the rules of the society, one of which was that every 
member, on his name being drawn by lot, must immediately 
kill himself. No reason for the existence of this extraordinary 
society was discovered; nor could any of the members give 
any explanation, reasonable or otherwise, why he joined in 
such a conspiracy. 

“In October, 1892, in New York, J. B. Morehead, a wealthy 
theatrical manager, shot himself, leaving a letter addressed to 
the coroner, which ran thus: ‘Dear Sir: I have committed sui¬ 
cide as per club. Please give verdict to such effect and oblige 

-’ At the inquest evidence was given that the deceased 

belonged to a club, each member of which on joining had to 
fix a date for his own death, and was bound by oath to kill 
himself when that date came. The witness who gave this evi¬ 
dence upon oath at the inquiry, said he himself was a member 
of the club, but declined to give the date he had appointed for 
his own death. ’ ’ 

From the earliest times it has been almost universally held 



SUICIDE —CONTINUED 


55i 


that “self-preservation is the first law of nature,” and beyond 
a doubt the saying is founded upon substantial truth. “Skin 
for skin, all that a man hath will he give for his life,” is the 
Scriptural form of expressing the same idea. The mainte¬ 
nance of human life upon the earth depends upon this deep- 
seated abhorrence of death, and also upon the existence of the 
procreative instinct. Without the latter the race would fail 
for lack of new recruits, while the absence of the former would 
so multiply suicide as to shortly depopulate the world. 

That the love of life is a divinely implanted instinct, or 
active principle of the human mind, is proven by its univer¬ 
sality. All animal life is similarly endowed, and all creatures 
struggle for a continuance of existence. More than that, the 
same instinct, or rather a modified form of it, seems to per¬ 
vade vegetable life. A tree or plant that under a normal con¬ 
dition does not send its roots far into the earth, in times of 
drouth will penetrate to unusual depths in search of needed 
moisture. A score of illustrations might be given, but one 
will suffice. 

In the savage man this instinct is particularly strong, and 
among the lowest and rudest peoples of the world suicide has 
always been very unusual, nothing, as a rule, driving them to 
it, except starvation. The reason for this is plain. Possessed 
only of those desires and passions that can be easily gratified, 
the savage is not subject to those disappointments that, in the 
civilized man, produce melancholy, discouragement and dis¬ 
gust of life. Again, his simple food and almost total lack of 
“civilized dissipation” peculiarly exempt him from both 
physical and mental disease. In brief, he occupies a plane so 
near that of the lower animals that he is governed by instincts, 
or intuitions, similar to theirs, and naturally follows much 
the same course; living only in and for the pleasures of the 
present, and taking little care of the future. 

By an arrangement of nature, which goes far towards 
demonstrating the goodness as well as the wisdom of God, the 
love of life, strong in youth and manhood, commences to 
decline as the body begins to lose its vitality and activity. 
Were it otherwise, the last days of a good man, instead of 


55 2 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


being peaceful and full of hope and expectation for the life to 
come, as beautifully expressed by Blair, in the passage quoted 
in the preceding chapter, would be tormented with regrets, 
anxieties and terrors. Although the love of life is at a low 
ebb after a man has passed his seventy-fifth birthday, suicides 
among men of that advanced age are much less frequent than 
with those who are from ten to twenty years younger. This 
is explained on the theory that the greater portion of those 
naturally disposed to suicide have yielded to the impulse 
earlier in life; have become demented and are taken care of 
on that account, or have reached, after life’s tempestuous 
voyage, a calm and open sea of contentment and hope. 

In the very young the desire to live is not particularly 
strong, but increases with age. This may be charged to a 
lack of experience and appreciation of what life really means. 
Suicide among children is not uncommon. Instances are 
recorded where the subject was less than five years old, but 
these were very rare; from five to ten they are more frequent, 
and seem to be increasing during recent years. From fifteen 
to twenty the percentage is quite large, many youths taking 
their own lives from seemingly trivial causes; as a reprimand, 
a whipping, a failure to pass an examination, and the like. 

Notwithstanding the deep-seated love of life, there is such 
a thing as a suicidal impulse, which may originate from the 
same principle in the human mind that underlies the homi¬ 
cidal impulse, that has been discussed elsewhere in the present 
volume. This impulse is usually divided into two varieties, or 
forms: the instantaneous suicidal impulse, where one is seized 
with a sudden and frequently uncontrollable desire to take his 
own life, and the gradually developing impulse to do the same 
thing, which is slight at first and increases with time. 

The first variety is comparatively common, large numbers 
annually falling victims to its increasing demands. As a rule, 
it comes upon one like a flash, and impels him to terminate his 
existence, often mechanically, without the subject fully realiz¬ 
ing what he is doing. Usually the insane possession passes 
away in a short time. Strahan instances the case of Sir Sam¬ 
uel Romilly, who so injured himself, while laboring under the 


SUICIDE —CONTINUED 


553 


effect of this dark impulse, that he died in a few minutes. 
When discovered, he was entirely rational, and was making 
desperate efforts to save his life by staying the flow of blood. 
Many similar instances are recorded. The finding of coroners’ 
juries in such cases is almost invariably “Suicide during 
temporary insanity,’’ and such findings are doubtless generally 
correct, although the same verdict is charitably returned in no 
end of instances where there is not the slightest evidence of 
insanity. In cases of this kind, where the ancestry of the 
subject can be traced, insanity is usually found in his family; 
indeed, it often develops that several of its members have 
taken their own lives under similar conditions. 

To the gradually growing impulse to take one’s own life, a 
very large proportion of modern suicides must be assigned. 
This impulse takes the form of an absolute yearning for death, 
thus, seemingly, reversing the normal workings of the mind. 

That such cases are usually the result of abnormal condi¬ 
tions cannot be doubted, although it is very far from being 
true that all, or perhaps a very large proportion of them, are 
due to what can justly be called insanity. Paradoxical as it 
appears, there can be no doubt but that many suicides of this 
class, where no reasonable motive can be discovered, take their 
own lives because the idea of death is positively pleasurable 
to them. Members of suicide clubs are doubtless victims of 
this form of mania, and derive from the contemplation of 
death, and its actual accomplishment as well, a certain pleasure; 
unnatural and hideous, it is true, but none the less pleasure. 
This theory, which seems clearly established, accounts for a 
large class of suicides that otherwise would be entirely inex- 
plainable. 

Modern philosophers who have given much time and 
thought to an investigation of the nature of suicide, divide it 
into two classes, rational and irrational. Rational suicide may 
be defined as the taking of one’s own life deliberately because, 
for some reason, the subject, a rational being, prefers death 
to life. To this class must be assigned the greater portion of 
all the suicides of ancient times. This is particularly true of 
the Brahmins and the Buddhists who, as has been pointed out, 


554 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


prefer death to life from a religious or superstitious belief. 
In their cases there is an absence of insanity, unless we are to 
adopt the views of those who maintain that the taking of one’s 
own life is, in itself, a certain indication of a diseased mind. 
These people die that they may gain by the act, and their 
motives appear no more irrational than if they were to desire 
to live for the same reason. To their eyes, it is the best 
course they can pursue to insure their own well-being. 

Most of the instances of self-destruction among the ancient 
Greeks and Romans were of the rational character, and were 
committed with the greatest possible deliberation. In their 
cases the motive was not to secure a benefit, but to avoid an 
evil that appeared greater than death. The virgin martyrs of 
the early Church fall under the same category, while the sui¬ 
cides of those Christians who were laboring under almost 
overpowering excitement, are classed with those of the Bud¬ 
dhists and Brahmins. This form of suicide is much less com¬ 
mon than it was in remote ages. The institution and growth 
of Christianity has had much to do with the accomplishment 
of this end, as also has the wonderful advancement in medical 
science, which, in recent times, has largely reduced the list of 
so-called incurable diseases and rendered others far less 
painful. 

The irrational suicide is one who seeks death for the sake 
of dying, and without either expecting to better his condition 
or escape overwhelming ills of life. In this category must be 
placed all who kill themselves while insane, or who do so with¬ 
out any reasonable cause, also those who yield to the suicidal 
impulse, whether it be instantaneous or of gradual develop¬ 
ment. That some people, entirely sane, commit suicide with¬ 
out what may be termed reasonable cause, is undoubted, yet 
the great majority of this class of suicides are possessed of 
clouded minds, as is shown from the statistics of various coun¬ 
tries. 

In the whole realm of fiction, probably the greatest literary 
problem that has puzzled scholars is whether or not Shakes¬ 
peare designed to portray in his Hamlet an insane man or one 
merely irresolute and wavering. Many critics have indicated 


SUICIDE—CONTINUED 


555 


his famous soliloquy on death as showing that he actively con¬ 
templated suicide, and was, hence, mentally unbalanced. In 
the estimation of the author, this wonderful soliloquy shows a 
clear brain, capable of the keenest and most accurate analysis 
of motives and consequences. This is particularly true of the 
concluding lines: 

“For who would bear the whips and scorns of time, 

The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely. 

The pangs of desprized love, the law’s delay, 

The insolence of office and the spurns 
That patient merit of the unworthy takes, 

When he himself might his quietus make 
With a bare bodkin? Who would fardels bear 
To grunt and sweat under a weary life, 

But that the thought of something after death, 

That undiscovered country from whose bourne 
No traveler returns, puzzles the will 
And makes us rather bear those ills we have 
Than fly to others that we know not of? 

Thus conscience doth make cowards of us all, 

And thus the native hue of resolution is sicklied o’er 
With the pale cast of thought, and enterprises 
Of great pith and moment, with this regard, 

Their currents turn awry, and lose the name of action.’’ 

In remote times no indignity was offered to the body of 
one who had died by his own hand. Even the Jews made no 
distinction in such a case, as appears from the circumstance 
that Ahithophel, mentioned in the preceding chapter, who 
deliberately killed himself, “after setting his house in order,” 
was “buried in his father’s grave,” the most honorable disposi¬ 
tion that could be made of the remains of a Jew. Among 
Asiatic peoples the question does not appear to have been 
often raised, and the Greeks and Romans did not generally 
offer indignities to the bodies of suicides, except as a means of 
stopping a mania for its commission. In the tenth century 
suicide was made a crime in England, and three hundred years 
later the same course was taken in France. This meant a for¬ 
feiture of the estates of suicides, and, no doubt, had some 
e-ffect in suppressing it. In both France and England the old 


556 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Roman system was followed, and the law did not apply to 
those who were driven to the act through insanity. 

In many countries it was for centuries the custom to drag 
the body face downward to the place appointed for public 
executions, and hang it head downward upon the gallows, 
after a time throwing it into a convenient ditch. This was 
long the practice in most of the countries of Europe, and was 
done in Paris as recently as 1749. These inhuman and bar¬ 
barous proceedings were early abandoned in England, though 
followed by others scarcely less revolting. The body of a 
suicide was buried at the cross-roads, a stake being driven 
through it, for the purpose of “laying” the ghost of the 
departed, thus preventing its annoying the neighborhood. 
The last instance of a burial of this kind in England occurred 
in 1823. From that time until 1882 bodies of suicides could be 
buried in churchyards, without religious ceremonies, between 
the hours of nine and twelve at night. At present there are 
no restrictions in England, nor are there any penalties pro¬ 
vided in the United States. 


CHAPTER XXXII 
CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 

“Whoso sheddeth man’s blood, by man shall his blood be 
shed.” 

Few biblical texts have excited comment and aroused bitter 
controversy to compare with the one above quoted. A dictum 
of the Almighty, its wisdom and justice has none the less been 
assailed in all ages. So general is the prejudice against cap¬ 
ital punishment in this country that one of the first questions 
asked a talesman offered as a juror in a murder trial, is 
whether or not he is opposed to the infliction of the death 
penalty. On this question many good and learned men have 
conscientiously differed, but the weight of opinion is clearly in 
favor of imposing the death penalty as a means of suppressing 
murder and other outrageous crimes. 

Death has been the penalty awarded murder from the 
earliest ages. The first murder was not punished capitally, 
but the perpetrator, Cain, was condemned to till the soil with 
poor results, and to become a fugitive and a vagabond in the 
earth. Cain objected that his punishment was greater than 
he could bear, and suggested that, on account of his murderous 
act, he was certain to meet with death, thus showing that the 
idea of capital punishment had thus early gained a footing in 
the world. But the principle is more clearly announced in 
the succeeding verse, Genesis iv. 15—“And the Lord said unto 
him, Therefore whosoever slayeth Cain, vengeance shall be 
taken upon him sevenfold. And the Lord set a mark upon 
Cain, lest any finding him should kill him. ’ ’ A further evidence 
is furnished by the establishment of “cities of refuge” designed 
to protect murderers from vengeance. 

Life has almost universally been regarded as man’s dearest 

557 


558 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 



possession; the exception being found among the Buddhists, 
Brahmins and some other sects, who are often glad to give up 
earthly existence. Logically, the penalty most likely to deter 
men from murder and other heinous crimes is death. Some 
philosophers have declared against this course, claiming that 
man has no right to take human life, while admitting that he 
possessed the right, under certain conditions, to deprive him 
of his liberty as long as he may live, which, according to some 
of them, is a heavier punishment than death itself. That the 
extreme penalty has had a marked effect in checking murder 
cannot be doubted by any one who investigates the subject; 
and, since prevention of crime is the true end of punishment, 
this conclusion furnishes a most logical reason for the death 
penalty. 

Among the ancient Jews the usual mode of execution 
appears to have been stoning to death, and this was meted out 
to a large class of offenders whose crimes were much less 
than murder. Thus we read in Leviticus xx. 27, “A man also 
or a woman that hath a familiar spirit, or that is a wizard, 
shall surely be put to death; they shall stone them with stones; 
their blood shall be upon them.” With the Hindoos, Chinese 
and most other peoples of the East, decapitation by the axe or 
sword is the usual method pursued. The Greeks and Romans 
employed a variety of means to execute criminals and others 
whose death was desired. Poisoning was often resorted to, 
and in this way died some of the most famous men of antiq¬ 
uity, notably Socrates. 

The ancient Romans had a way of combining business with 
pleasure, and condemned people were often thrown to lions in 
the amphitheatre, to the unbounded delight of vast concourses 
of people. Crucifixion was another means quite generally 
employed, as also was boiling in oil. Beheading was, how¬ 
ever, recognized as the most honorable mode of suffering 
death. 

Drowning was resorted to in very remote ages, by almost 
all nations, and has only recently been discontinued in Europe. 
Four and a half centuries before the beginning of the Chris¬ 
tian era the Britons inflicted death by drowning in a quagmire. 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


559 


In the Anglo-Saxon times, women who were convicted of theft 
were put to death by drowning. Richard Cceur de Lion 
decreed that any soldier of his who killed a fellow-crusader 
during the passage to the Holy Land, should be drowned. In 
England this mode of execution was discontinued about the 
beginning of the seventeenth century. “On the nth day of 
May, 1685,’’ says William Andrews in his very valuable work, 
“Old-Time Punishments,” “Margaret McLaughlin, aged 
sixty-three years, and Margaret Wilson, a girl of eighteen 
years, were drowned in the waters of the Blendoch, for deny¬ 
ing that James VII. of Scotland was entitled to rule the 
Church according to his pleasure. Bearing on this subject 
there is an important statement in ‘Boys’ History of Sand¬ 
wich.’ It is recorded that in the year 1313, a presentment 
was made before the itinerant Justices at Canterbury that the 
Prior of Christ’s Church had for nine years obstructed the high 
road leading from Dover Castle to Sandwich by the seashore, 
by a water-mill, and the diversion of a stream called the 
Gestlyng, where felons condemned to death within the hun¬ 
dred should be drowned, but could not be executed that way 
for want of water. Further, that he raised a certain gutter 
four feet, and the water that passed that way to the gutter ran 
to the place where convicts were drowned, and from whence 
their bodies were floated to the river; and that after the 
gutter was raised the drowned bodies could not be carried into 
the river by the stream, as they used to be, for want of water.” 

Burning to death as a mode of punishment appears so 
revolting and inhuman that we can hardly conceive of the 
possibility of its having been generally practiced by Christian 
nations, and its abolition within recent times furnishes one of 
the strongest arguments in favor of the theory that the world 
is growing better. For centuries, throughout almost the 
entire of Europe, it was the usual punishment for witchcraft, 
and for all forms of religious offenses as well. The first to 
suffer in this way in England was Alban, who was burned at 
the stake for heresy in the year A. D. 304. Since that day 
literally thousands of unfortunates have given up the ghost in 
the midst of fierce flames in England, as well as elsewhere in 


5 6 ° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


Europe. By a singular process of reasoning, burning at the 
stake of women convicted of civil offenses was regarded as in 
the nature of a mitigation of hanging. On this point Sir Wil¬ 
liam Blackstone, one of the greatest commentators on the 
Common Law of England, has this to say: “For as the 
decency due to the sex forbids the exposing and publicly 
mangling their bodies, their sentence—which is to be full as 
terrible to sensation as the other—is, to be drawn to the gal¬ 
lows, and there to be burnt alive;” and he adds, “The 
humanity of the English nation has authorized, by a tacit 
consent, an almost general mitigation of such part of these 
judgments as savors of torture and cruelty, a sledge or 
hurdle being usually allowed to such traitors as are con¬ 
demned to be drawn, and there being few instances—and 
those accidental and by negligence — of any person being 
disemboweled or burnt till previously deprived of sensation 
by strangling. ’ ’ 

Burning at the stake has been much more common than 
most people suppose. In Germany alone, during a single cen¬ 
tury, as many as an hundred thousand people, for the most 
part decrepit, almost imbecile, old women were burned alive 
for witchcraft. 

Revolting and cruel as such executions were, a single 
instance may still be cited as illustrating the remarkable 
advance that humanity has made within a comparatively few 
years. This burnfng occurred at Lincoln, England. ‘ ‘ Eleanor 
Elsom,” says Andrews, “was condemned to death for the 
murder of her husband, and was ordered to be burnt at the 
stake. She was dressed in a cloth ‘made like a shift,’ satu¬ 
rated with tar, and her limbs were also smeared with the same 
inflammable substance, while a tarred bonnet had been placed 
on her head. She was brought out of the prison barefoot, 
and, being put on a hurdle, was drawn on a sledge to the place 
of execution near the gallows. Upon arrival, some time was 
passed in prayer, after which the executioner placed her on a 
tar barrel, a height of three feet against the stake. A rope ran 
through a pulley in the stake, and was placed around her 
neck, she herself fixing it with her hands. Three irons also 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


561 


held her body to the stake, and the rope being pulled tight, 
the tar barrel was taken aside and the fire lighted. The 
account in the ‘Lincoln Date Book’ states that she was prob¬ 
ably quite dead before the fire reached her, as the executioner 
pulled upon the rope several times while the irons were being 
fixed. The body was seen amid the flames for nearly half an 
hour, though, through the dryness of the wood and the 
quantity of tar, the fire was exceedingly fierce.” 

The last instance of burning in England occurred March 
18, 1789, when a woman named Christian Murphy, alias Bow¬ 
man, was burned for coining. Shortly after this, the bar¬ 
barous law was repealed, and an enactment made which 
provided that, after June 5, 1790, women were to suffer death 
by hanging, as in the case of men. Burning at the stake 
was never legally practiced in the United States. 

Boiling to death was inflicted upon criminals in Europe 
several hundred years ago, but was never nearly so common 
as burning. In England an act was passed in 1531 providing 
this punishment for poisoners, but it had been resorted to long 
before this time, both in England and upon the Continent. 
Many instances might be cited of the infliction of this dreadful 
punishment in England. 

Of all the atrocious and cruel punishments devised by Zhe 
infernal ingenuity of man, that of pressing to death may be 
regarded as the most cruel pits legal name, “Peine forte et 
dure,” signifying “strong and hard pain.” This punishment 
was meted out to those who, on being arraigned for felony, 
refused to plead to the indictment, or “stood mute,” as it was 
termed. Under the ancient Common Law o* England one 
could not be tried for a felony until he had pleaded, and press¬ 
ing was resorted to to force the prisoner at Mie bar to answer 
“guilty” or “not guilty.” The reason for standing mute is 
found in the circumstance that attainder and confiscation of 
estates to the Crown followed a conviction of felony, while it 
did not apply to those who were pressed to death. Many men 
suffered this lingering and agonizing death that they might 
preserve their property for their families. For a prisoner to 
peremptorily challenge more than twenty jurors was consid- 


562 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


ered equivalent to standing mute, and was punished in the 
same manner. 

In tlie beginning of the thirteenth century, this punishment 
seems to have consisted only in severe imprisonment with a 
very low diet, persisted in until the obstinacy of the accused 
was overcome and he consented to plead. But during the 
reign of Henry IV. it became the practice to load heavy 
weights upon the body of the offender, and thus literally press 
him to death. The following was the method provided by 
the law: 

“That the prisoner shall be remanded to the place from 
whence he came, and put in some low, dark room, and there 
laid on his back, without any manner of covering except a 
cloth round his middle; and that as many weights shall be laid 
upon him as he can bear, and more; and that he shall have no 
more sustenance but of the worst bread and water, and that he 
shall not eat the same day on which he drinks, nor drink on the 
same day on which he eats, and he shall so continue till he 
die. ” At a later period, the form of sentence was altered to 
the following: “That the prisoner shall be remanded to the 
place from whence he came, and put in some low, dark room, 
that he shall lie without any litter or anything under him, and 
that one arm shall be drawn to one quarter of the room with a 
cord, and the other to another, and that his feet shall be used 
in the same manner, and that as many weights shall be laid 
upon him as he can bear, and more. That he shall have three 
morsels of barley bread a day, and that he shall have the 
water next the prison so that it shall be not current, and that 
he shall not eat, etc.” 

When the practice of pressing had become well-nigh 
extinct, those who declined to plead were tortured by twisting 
and screwing their thumbs with whip-cords until they yielded, 
or died under the torture. Sometimes both methods were em¬ 
ployed in succession, and occasionally the two at the same time 

Thomas Spigot, a highwayman, was both pressed and 
twisted with cords in 1721, and the Nottingham Mercury , of 
January 19 of that year, contained the following account of the 
transaction: 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


563 


“Yesterday the Sessions began at the Old Bailey, where 
several persons were brought to the bar for the highway, etc. 
Among them were the highwaymen lately taken at Westmin¬ 
ster, two of whom, namely, Thomas Green, alias Phillips, and 
Thomas Spigot, refusing to plead, the court proceeded to pass 
the following sentence upon them: ‘That the prisoner shall 
be,’ etc., as already quoted. The former, on sight of the 
terrible machine, desired to be carried back to the sessions 
house, where he pleaded not guilty. But the other, who 
behaved himself very insolently to the ordinary who was 
ordered to attend him, seemingly resolved to undergo the 
torture. Accordingly, when they brought cords, as usual, 
to tie him, he broke them three several times like a twine- 
thread, and told them if they brought cables he would serve 
them after the same manner. But, however, they found 
means to tie him to the ground, having his limbs extended; 
but after enduring the punishment for an hour, and having 
three or four hundredweight put on him, he at last submitted 
to plead, and was carried back, when he pleaded not guilty.’’ 
The Rev. Mr. Willette, with the ordinary of the prison, in 
1776, published the “Annals of Newgate,’’ and from these we 
learn further particulars of the torture of the highwayman 
Spigot. “The chaplain found him lying in the vault upon the 
bare ground, with 350 pounds weight upon his breast, and 
then prayed with him, and at several times asked him why he 
should hazard his soul by such obstinate kind of self-murder. 
He sometimes lay silent under the pressure, as if insensible to 
the pain, and then again would fetch his breath very quick and 
short. Several times he complained that they had laid a 
cruel weight upon his face, though it was covered with nothing 
but a thin cloth, which was afterwards removed and laid more 
light and hollow; yet he still complained of the prodigious 
weight upon his face, which might be caused by the blood 
being forced up thither and pressing the veins so violently as 
if the force had been externally on his face. When he had 
remained a half an hour under this load, and fifty pounds 
weight more laid on, being in all four hundred, he told those 
who attended him he would plead. The weights were at once 


564 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


taken off, the cords cut asunder; he was raised up by two 
men, some brandy put into his mouth to revive him, and he 
was carried to take his trial. ’ ’ 

The last case of pressing- in England, which terminated 
fatally, occurred in 1667, when one Major Strange ways was 
thus put to death. At this horrible execution several of the 
condemned man’s friends were present, and, when he signified 
that he was ready, piled a large quantity of stone and iron 
upon the press, but he still lived. Then they stood upon the 
press themselves, and in ten minutes the wretched man had 
ceased to live. In 1827 an act of Parliament provided that, 
where one stood mute, a plea of not guilty should be entered, 
and the trial proceed. 

The execution of the condemned persons by hanging has 
been common throughout a large portion of the world almost 
from time immemorial. To this, in the olden time, was added 
the horrible accessories of drawing and quartering. This 
form of punishment was at one time termed “godly butch¬ 
ery,” by reason of the divine authority which was quoted for 
its continuance. So great an authority as Lord Coke found 
abundant precedents in the Bible to support and justify all the 
horrid details of hanging, drawing and quartering. The gal¬ 
lows of the Anglo-Saxons consisted of two upright pieces of 
timber connected by a cross-beam over which the culprit was 
drawn into the air by a rope, dying of strangulation. During 
the Midle Ages hanging was exceedingly common, the whole 
country being dotted with gibbets. “Every town, every 
abbey, and almost every large manorial lord,” says Thomas 
Wright, “had the right of hanging, and a gallows or tree, with 
a man hanging upon it, was so frequent an object in the 
country that it seems to have been considered as almost a nat¬ 
ural object of a landscape, and it is thus introduced, by no 
means uncommonly, in medieval manuscripts.” In the reign 
of Henry VI. of England, which extended over thirty-eight 
years, it is stated that 72,000 criminals were executed. In 
France the.gallows was known as “the lantern,’’for the reason 
that a lantern was suspended from its extended arm. 

In the olden time, culprits were hanged by making them 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


565 


stand in a cart beneath the gallows; the cart being withdrawn, 
the doomed man was left hanging by the neck. In more 
recent times this and similar expedients were superseded by a 
falling trap-door, which permitted the body of the condemned 
to be projected downward by its own gravity. Other 
devices pull the body violently into the air by means of heavy 
weights attached to the rope, which are released from their 
fastenings by the executioner, and allowed to fall. 

Hanging, drawing and quartering "was the sentence for a 
long time imposed upon English traitors. It was in the fol¬ 
lowing form: “That the traitor is to be taken from the prison 
and laid upon a sledge or hurdle—in earlier days he was to be 
dragged along the surface of the ground, tied to the tail of a 
horse—and drawn to the gallows or place of execution, and 
then hanged by the neck until he be half-dead, and then cut 
down, and his entrails to be cut out of his body and burnt by 
the executioner; then his head is to be cut off, his body to be 
divided into quarters, and afterwards his head and quarters to 
be set up in some open place as directed.” As a rule the 
executioner cut open the chest of the victim, plucked out and 
held up the heart to the gaze of the populace, exclaiming, 
“Behold the heart of a traitor!” 

Gibbeting, or hanging in chains, was long practiced in 
Europe, particularly in England, where the practice has come 
down to recent times. “In atrocious cases of murder,” writes 
Blackstone, “it was frequently usual for the court to direct the 
murderer, after execution, to be hung upon a gibbet where 
the act was committed; but this was no part of the legal judg¬ 
ment; and the like is still sometimes practiced in the case of 
notorious thieves. This, being quite contrary to the express 
command of the Mosaic law, seems to have been borrowed 
from the civil law; which, besides the terror of the example, 
gives also another reason for this practice, namely, that it 
is a comfortable sight to the relations and friends of the 
deceased.” 

As to whether criminals were at any time executed in Eng¬ 
land by being hanged alive in chains, there is a conflict of 
opinion, but the weight of authority seems to be in favor of 


5 66 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


the affirmative. Almost every district of England has pre¬ 
served stories of men being hanged alive in chains, and left to 
die of exposure and starvation. In the famous “Chronicle of 
England,” written by Holinshed, which supplied Shakespeare 
with much of the material for his historical plays, and which 
is fairly reliable, it is stated: “In wilful murder done upon 
pretended—premeditated—malice, or in anie notable robbery, 
the criminal is either hanged alive in chains near the place 
where the act was committed, or else, upon compassion 
taken, first strangled with a rope, and so continueth till his 
bones came to nothing. Where wilful manslaughter is per¬ 
petrated, besides hanging, the offender hath his right hand 
commonly stricken off.” 

The last criminal gibbeted in England was George Cook, a 
bookbinder, at Leicester. This was in 1832. The custom 
was abolished on July 25, 1834. 

Garroting has long been the means of inflicting the death 
penalty in Spain and her colonies. The word is derived from 
the Spanish “garrote,” which signifies a stick or cudgel. 
Originally it consisted merely in seating the condemned in a 
chair fixed to a post, passing a strong cord around his neck 
and then strangling him by twisting the cord with a stick. 
In this form it very much resembles the use of the bow-string 
for a like purpose, much used by the Mohammedan nations; 
and it is more than probable that the Spanish adopted the 
garrote from the Moors. For a long time the use of a cord 
has been abandoned, and a brass collar substituted. This con¬ 
tains a pointed screw which the executioner turns until it 
enters the spinal marrow where it joins the brain, producing 
instant death. In the days of the Inquisition, this form of 
death was granted as a favor to those who recanted their 
heresies, in lieu of burning alive. It is said by Llorente, in 
his “History of the Inquisition,” that at an “Auto da Fe,” or 
burning, at Cuenca, a poor Jew who had received this most 
gracious clemency, having noticed the bungling manner in 
which the executioner performed the operation on two 
wretches who preceded him, said to the former: “Peter, if 
you are likely to strangle me so clumsily, I had much rather 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 567 

be burned alive.” Garroting still continues the official 
method of executing criminals with the Spaniards. 

One of the most diabolical punishments every devised by 
man was that of breaking on the wheel, which was long 
employed in France and Germany for the execution of certain 
classes of criminals, as traitors and parricides. By this 
inhuman method, the criminal was placed upon a carriage 
wheel with his arms and legs extended upon the spokes. The 
wheel was then revolved, and the executioner proceeded to 
fracture his limbs in different places with an iron bar, until 
life was extinct. Exactly this method was not always pursued. 
By way of sooner terminating the terrible sufferings of the 
condemned, the executioner would sometimes administer what 
was termed “coups de grace,” which consisted of two or three 
blows on the breast or stomach, calculated to kill the victim. 
Sometimes, in France, the sentence contained a provision 
that, after the first or second blow, the sufferings of the cul¬ 
prit were to be terminated by strangulation. Executions on 
the wheel continued in France until the Revolution of 1789. 
In Germany it has occasionally been inflicted during the pres¬ 
ent century, in cases of treason of an aggravated character. 

Decapitation by the axe and sword has been a common 
means of executing the death penalty from very early times. 
It was employed in the East in remote ages, and was always 
regarded as one of the most honorable modes of suffering 
death at the hands of the law. It was early used in France, 
and, indeed, all European nations. Beheading appears to 
have been introduced into England by William the Conqueror, 
who employed it as a means of executing criminals belonging 
to the nobility and higher ranks of the people. The first 
Englishman to go to the block was Walter, Earl of Hunt¬ 
ingdon, Northampton and Northumberland, in 1076. Since 
that time very many of the nobility of England, and not a few 
royal personages, have met their death at the block. One of 
the earliest to fall was Sir William Wallace, the Scottish 
patriot, whose name is known to every schoolboy. Betrayed 
by some of his own countrymen, he was delivered to King 
Edward of England and conveyed to England, where, after a 


5 63 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


mockery of a trial for treason, he was beheaded, August 23, 
1305. His death was accompanied by acts of singular barbarity 
and cruelty. The last person to suffer at the block in England 
was Lord Lovat, who was decapitated April 7, 1747, for 
espousing the cause of the Pretender, though before that time 
he had committed almost every crime in the calendar. 

Beheading by means of mechanical contrivances was long 
in use in certain localities, but never became universal, or even 
general, in any nation until the invention of the guillotine. 
One of the most remarkable of these contrivances was used at 
an early day in Halifax, England, and was known as the 
“Halifax Gibbet.” It is thus described in Holinshed’s 
Chronicle, already quoted: 

“There is and has been, of ancient time, a law, or rather a 
custom, at Halifax, that whosoever doth commit any felony, 
and is taken with the same, or confess the fact upon examina¬ 
tion,. if it be valued by four constables to amount to the sum 
of thirteen-pence half-penny, he is forthwith beheaded upon 
one of the next market days—which fall usually upon the 
Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays—or else upon the same 
day that he is convicted, if market be holden. The engine 
wherewith the execution is done is a square block of wood, of 
the length of four feet and a half, which doth ride up and 
down in a slot, rabet, or regall, between two pieces of timber 
that is framed and set upright, of five yards in height. In the 
nether end of a sliding block is an axe, keyed or fastened with 
an iron into the wood, which, being drawn up to the top of the 
frame, is there fastened by a wooden pin—with a notch made in 
the same, after the manner of Samson’s post—unto the middest 
of which pin also there is a long rope fastened, that cometh 
down among the people; so that when the offender hath made 
his confession, and has laid his neck over the nethermost 
block, every man there present doth either take hold of the 
rope—or putteth forth his arm so near the same as he can get, 
in token that he is willing to see justice executed—and pulling 
out the pin in this manner, the head block wherein the axe is 
fastened doth fall down with such a violence that if the neck of 
the transgressor were so big as that of a bull, it should be cut 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


569 


in sunder at a stroke, and roll from the body by an huge dis¬ 
tance. If it be so that the offender be apprehended for an ox, 
sheep, kine, horse, or any such cattle, the self-same beast or 
other of its kind shall have the end of the rope tied somewhere 
unto them, so that they being driven, do draw out the pin 
whereby the offender is executed.” 

Forty-nine persons, as appears from the Parish register at 
Halifax, suffered death by means of this machine, from the 
20th day of March, 1541, the earliest recorded execution, to 
the 30th day of April, 1650, when the last criminals, Abraham 
Wilkinson and Anthony Mitchel, were thus deprived of life. 
The gibbet axe is still preserved. It weighs seven pounds and 
twelve ounces, is ten and a half inches in length, seven inches 
broad at the top, and nearly nine inches at the bottom. 

The “Scottish Maiden” was another mechanical device for 
decapitating criminals. It was not an independent invention, 
but was after the directions of the Earl of Morton, Regent of 
Scotland, who had witnessed an execution by the Halifax 
gibbet. It was constructed in 1565. The “Maiden” was not 
unlike the Halifax gibbet, after which it was modeled. 
According to Rogers, its peculiar name was derived from 
“mod-dun,” a Celtic word originally signifying the place 
where justice was administered. According to others, the 
name “Maiden” was given it for the reason that it was a long 
time after its construction before it was first employed to 
behead a criminal. At least one hundred and twenty persons 
met their death by the Maiden, among them several of the 
noblest men in Scotland, as, Sir John Gordon of Haddo, Presi¬ 
dent Spottiswoode, and the Marquis and Earl of Argyle. The 
latter is reported to have said, as he laid his head upon the 
block: “This is the sweetest maiden I have ever kissed.” 
The use of this instrument was discontinued in 1710. It is 
still preserved at Edinburgh, in the Museum of the Society of 
Antiquaries of Scotland. 

Of all the modes for executing criminals, probably the 
guillotine has excited the widest interest. This is not so much 
due to its peculiar construction as to the long list of distin¬ 
guished men and women who have suffered death by it, par- 


57° 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


ticularly during the “Reign of Terror” that disgraced France, 
and humanity, in the latter part of the eighteenth century. 

The child of the Revolution, through all the changes and 
modifications of her political structure—from the Kingdom, 
through the Republic, the Directory, the Consulate, the 
Empire, down to the Republic of our own day—France has 
never discarded the guillotine, nor allowed its polished blade, 
like the sword of Hudibras, to grow rusty through lack of 
usage. 

When the “horrid wheel” and its attendant iron bar were 
not resorted to, decapitation by the axe and sword had for 
ages been the death awarded French criminals of rank; the 
gallows, called the “lantern,” being reserved for the common 
culprit. The cross, the stake, quartering, drawing, boiling 
and flaying alive, were sometimes resorted to as already indi¬ 
cated, but only in the cases of regicides, and those guilty of 
peculiarly atrocious crimes. 

In 1789 Dr. Joseph Ignace Guillotin, a physician of some 
note, began to agitate in the Assembly, of which he was a 
member, the question of making executions uniform and by 
decapitation. Having no machine to present for the accom¬ 
plishment of the work, he gained time by suggesting the fol¬ 
lowing article: “In every case of capital punishment, the 
mode of execution shall be the same; the criminal shall be 
decapitated by means of a mechanical contrivance.” This 
article was referred to a committee, and did not become a law 
until 1791. 

As the article did not provide a means of decapitation, 
Charles Henri Sanson, the executioner of Paris, addressed a 
memorial to the minister of justice, showing the difficulties 
attendant upon the use of the sword and axe, and recommend¬ 
ing the adoption of some machine that would keep the suffer¬ 
er’s body in a horizontal position. The publication of this 
memorial induced Dr. Guillotin to call upon Sanson, and many 
conferences ensued. Together they searched the criminal 
annals of Europe for descriptions of machines. Four engrav¬ 
ings, three German and one Italian, rewarded their labors, but 
all of them were manifestly imperfect. The Italian machine, 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


57i 


which bore the date 1555, was called the “maunaia,” and con¬ 
sisted of a large axe working between two perpendicular 
boards, which was allowed to fall upon and sever the neck. 
Inferior varieties of the maunaia were found to have been used 
in Scotland and Persia, and even in France, Marshal Mont¬ 
morency having been executed at Toulouse in 1631, by means 
of a sliding axe; but the investigators do not seem to have 
learned of the Halifax gibbet. 

In 1790, Sanson had formed the acquaintance of a German 
engineer, resident at Paris, named Schmidt. The executioner 
told Schmidt of his perplexity, whereupon, after a moment’s 
hesitation, the latter took a piece of paper, and traced thereon 
a few hurried lines, and handed the drawing to the execu¬ 
tioner. It was the guillotine! 

Sanson hastened to inform Dr. Guillotin of his good for¬ 
tune. The doctor was beside himself with joy, and on the 
thirteenth of April, 1791, he described the new apparatus to 
the Assembly. In his excitement and enthusiasm he declared 
that the culprit would only feel a slight freshness upon the 
neck, and added, “With this machine I cut your head off in a 
twinkling, and you do not suffer!” whereupon the Assembly 
burst into loud peals of laughter, and for a moment it seemed 
that the doctor had ruined his cause. When the merriment 
had subsided, however, a discussion ensued, and Dr. Antoine 
Louis, the king’s physician, was appointed to inquire into the 
merits of the machine. 

A conference between Sanson, Louis and Guillotin resulted, 
at which the king himself was present. After his Majesty had 
examined the plan of Schmidt, he shook his head, and 
remarked: “The knife has the form of a crescent; do you 
think a knife thus shaped would be suitable for all necks? 
There are some which it certainly would not cut.” Sanson 
was appealed to, and agreed with the king, who, smiling with 
pleasure, took up a pen and changed the crescent into an 
oblique line; thus actually drawing, with his own kingly 
hand, that terrible knife which, two years later, was to sever 
the neck of Citizen Louis Capet, otherwise King Louis XVI. 
of France. 


572 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


On March 7, 1792, Dr. Louis submitted his report to the 
Assembly, recommending the adoption of the machine as 
drawn by Schmidt, with the alternative of the crescent or 
oblique knife. On March 20th the report was adopted, and 
Dr. Louis requested to superintend the construction of the 
first machine. It was built by a carpenter named Guidon, at 
an expense of 5,500 francs. When completed, Sanson experi¬ 
mented on three corpses, two being successfully decapitated 
with the oblique knife, while the crescent failed with the third. 
The latter was accordingly rejected, and that suggested by 
King Louis adopted. A week later, Sanson tried its merits 
upon a thief named Pelletin, the first victim of the guil¬ 
lotine. 

The machine as first devised, and which has been but 
slightly modified, is constructed as follows: Upon a scaffold, 
from seven to eight feet in height, two vertical parallel bars 
are made fast, and united at the top by a strong cross-bar. 
To this cross-bar an iron ring is attached, through which is 
passed a rope that holds in position an iron ram, weighing 
from sixty to seventy pounds. The ends of the ram are 
arranged to work in grooves in the vertical bars, which retain 
it in position, allowing it to slide up and down. On its lower 
side this ram is armed with a large knife set in an oblique 
position, to strike with what might be termed a “draw cut.” 
To a heavy board, called the “weigh-plank,” strong straps are 
attached with which to bind the criminal under the arm-pits 
and over the legs. The neck is placed exactly beneath the 
blade and secured in position by means of two cross-bars. The 
ram, released by pulling a cord, descends with great force, the 
oblique knife severs the neck, the head falls into a receptacle 
filled with bran, while the body is placed in a wicker basket 
lined with leather. 

Thus the guillotine, though a synonym for horror and 
despair, had its origin in principles of humanity and genuine 
democracy. Dr. Guillotin, who, though trained to the art of 
healing, devoted so much time to the art of killing, was a 
genuine humanitarian, and died in 1814, believing that he had 
done mankind a service by providing a means of execution 


CAPITAL PUNISHMENT 


573 

swift, certain and as nearly painless as the nature of death 
admits. 

The machine was at first called the Louisen, and Louisette, 
in honor of Dr. Louis, but the song-writers, a potent frater¬ 
nity in France, dubbed it the guillotine, a name it has since 
borne. 

The most recent addition to the modes of execution is 
“electrocution,” or depriving a criminal of life bypassing a 
powerful current of electricity through his body. This 
method has been adopted in New York, and is now the only 
mode employed in executing the death sentence in that State. 
The culprit is seated in an insulated chair, and a broken wire 
connected through his body, the application being made on the 
lower portion of his legs and the back of his head, at the base of 
the brain. At an appointed signal, a strong current of elec¬ 
tricity is turned upon the wire, which produces, as it is 
claimed, almost instant death. This method has met with 
some opposition, notably by electricians and electrical com¬ 
panies, who claimed that discredit was being placed upon their 
profession and their business, but this has now well-nigh sub¬ 
sided, and the mode seems permanently established, and 
seems likely to be quite generally adopted in the future. 

The office of public executioner has always been regarded 
with a feeling akin to horror, and those who have filled the 
position have generally been of a low and brutal order, some¬ 
times actual criminals themselves. In many countries, the 
office has been, by custom rather than law, hereditary. This 
was particularly true of the German States. In France seven 
generations of the Sansons, one of whom has already been 
referred to in this chapter, were the public executioners of 
Paris. These are popularly styled “Monsieur de Paris.” It 
is said that the offices of executioner in the early days of 
England descended from father to son. In the United States 
there is no such office, the duties falling to it being discharged 
by the sheriffs of the different counties, who acquire no dis¬ 
grace from the circumstance, it being merely an incident of 
their official duties. 

For the most part, the death penalty is now inflicted only 


574 


MURDER IN ALL AGES 


as a punishment for murder, treason or piracy, though in some 
countries the list is longer. Blackstone, writing about 1765, 
says that 160 different offenses were punishable by death in 
England at that time. More than four-fifths of these orig¬ 
inated with the first three Georges. Capital punishment was 
abolished about the year 1874 in Switzerland, Portugal, Hol¬ 
land and Roumania, and is not at present inflicted in some of 
the United States. 

The comparatively few crimes at present punished capitally, 
together with the more humane methods of administering the 
death penalty, argue very strongly in favor of what the author 
has tried to make this volume prove, viz.: that, under the 
influence of religion and civilization, men are rising in the 
scale of moral being; that the worst portion of the history of 
mankind is a thing of the past, and that a brighter era has at 
last dawned upon a sin-laden world. 






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